


Double Shot

by PastPresentFiction



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 47,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction
Summary: Charlotte manages a small coffee shop where a few new regulars are making their presence known.  Aside from the cappuccinos, lattes, and the double shot of espresso that one very interesting man keeps ordering, everything is normal as can be.  Right?
Relationships: Aisha al-Fadhil/Franklin Clay, Franklin Clay/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 16





	1. Customer Service in a Coffee Shop? Who Knew?

**Author's Note:**

> OOPS I did it again. OK, so I do this a LOT and then I get blushing weird slaps from her for it, but the sitch is this. If not for @JDMsNegan, no one would get JDM stories by the truckload from me. And she went a step further for this one by helping me with the title. So... If you like the work, give her a round of applause too. For this story, and pretty much all of my JDM character based ones. Cause she pokes me toward his stuff...not that stuff, stop being dirty minded ;)

“They’re here again,” I heard Keli mutter from her spot behind the register. And then she started muttering their orders, because this group was nothing if not predictable. “Oh look, it’s Cappuccino Extra Cinnamon Are You Sure You Don’t Do The Art On Top, first.” 

I glanced up from the clipboard that was my constant companion on Wednesdays in the coffee shop I managed. Inventory coupled with ordering, always enjoyable, I thought. I caught sight of the very buff guy who would awkwardly try to flirt with whichever barista took his order, since the group only seemed to come in when the staff was entirely female, then shuffle off to a corner with his laptop. The others, an older guy always wearing a black jacket and white button down, which he didn’t completely button, the young lithe woman whose ethnicity I wouldn’t want to even try to fathom, and the other two, a happy black man who looked as comfortable in the shop as any of my other customers and a Hispanic man who looked like he’d rather be perched somewhere unseen, didn’t come in together. In fact, if we weren’t a small shop, we might not have figured out they were together at all. Ones and twos, that’s how this group maneuvered, but our lack of wifi cap (I’m looking at you Starbucks and you Panera with your 30 minutes or whatever bullshit) and I want to believe the higher quality of our pastries and coffees seemed to entice them back regularly. 

“As long as their money is good, they can come in every single fucking-” Sighing and rolling my eyes, I tried again. More flies with sugar, right? “Maybe if you tried to learn our regulars’ names, instead of just their orders, you’d have a better reaction.” She was staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “Customer service? You know, necessary for a job in-” I stopped because he’d made his way to the counter. “Welcome to The Little Drip, what can Keli get for you today?” I could feel the irritation rolling off of Keli and it made my smile grow. 

He seemed taken aback that I’d offered up my greeting before he could stumble through his first go at flirting with poor Keli. I wondered if I should toss him a bone and let him know that out of all the baristas he could flirt with, Keli was a lost cause, he didn’t exactly meet her physical requirements, if you know what I mean? His eyes locked on mine and I bit my lip. If he could ditch the awkward, he’d be a hell of a draw with those eyes and that smile alone. 

“Uh, sure,” he looked down and I had to hold back a giggle. “Let me see, I’ll have-” He told Keli his order, and I had to hold back a laugh when he asked for EXACTLY the same thing she’d muttered. I guess I should have been impressed that she remembered it so well, but once she rang him up, got the cash, she bumped my hip to start his order and I started losing my urge to compliment the little shit. Instead I thought I’d use the time to show her how real customer service worked.

“You seem to be becoming a bit of a regular,” I offered, setting my clipboard down and leaning against the counter, causing myself to inadvertently get closer to him. “I’m Charlotte,” I held out my hand and watched without laughing as he wiped the sweat off his own before taking mine. 

“Um, I’m, uh-” I raised an eyebrow, his name shouldn’t be as anxiety inducing as a pop quiz. “JJ. I’m JJ.” His hand, though a tad clammy, was strong and I smiled up at him as I shook it. 

“You sure about that, JJ?” I asked, squinting up. “Seemed like it was touch or go there for a second.” He smiled and I felt a little lurch in my stomach. Shit, seriously, get past the awkward weirdness and he was hot as hell. I pulled my hand away, but my smile stayed as Keli handed over his order. “Your table awaits.” I gestured to the table he had taken every single time that he’d come in and I saw him pale slightly. “Sorry, that sounded like I’m a creepy stalker. I should get back to-” I picked up my clipboard and tried to ignore Keli’s snickering. “Have a good day.” 

I went back to ordering, and making sure that the numbers of what should be available matched what was available. Keli waited on the other parts of the group, though the black man and the Hispanic man didn’t make an appearance. I wondered if it was something I’d said to JJ?

I heard the guy who constantly seemed dressed in his own personal uniform approach the counter and also heard Keli mutter his order under her breath. “Ah, yes, Mr. I’ll Take Coffee, Black, But Hit Me With A Double Shot of Espresso,” and I almost could see her eyes roll even from behind her back. 

I listened as he gave his order in the deepest damn voice I think I’ve ever heard outside of a bedroom, and had to look up from my clipboard. The woman, young and thin, had her eyes locked on him from where she’d taken a seat after she’d gotten her own order (Latte Soy Milk No Foam) and I shook off whatever thought had errantly crossed my mind at the sound of his voice, but then he stepped into my line of sight and I felt my mouth go dry. Shit. 

“Hi, I’m Clay.” His hand was outstretched and I blinked. What? “I keep coming in here and it seems rude to not introduce myself.” More blinking and his hand was still in front of him in a holding pattern. “Or, not.” He started to pull his hand back, but I shook my head and reminded myself that I was technically the face of this fucking store. 

“I’m sorry, numbers and tallying must have made my brain numb.” I took his hand and had to swallow down the twist of lust that his fucking hand against mine caused. Taken, dumbass, TAKEN. “I’m Charlotte, the manager of this ‘fine’ establishment.” I hoped I was smiling because honest to God I had no fucking clue what my face was doing. “Welcome to The Little Drip, enjoy your visit?” Shit, fuck, shit. Why had it come out as a question? Why had my voice squeaked at the end? He was smiling down at me, dimples peeking out from his carefully maintained scruff and I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. 

“Oh I plan to,” that fucking voice, shit.


	2. Curiosity Killed the Cat, and I Am Most Definitely NOT a Cat

Clay, JJ, Asha, Paul, and Charlie (I had my doubts about Charlie, he looked far more like a Carlos to me) all had all introduced themselves to me, and my staff by the end of the week. Apparently, after I’d made the first move they followed. Keli, ever stubborn, surly Keli still addressed them by their orders, or she did under her breath anyway. I tried, desperately, not to growl at her every time she muttered about the ‘half caf double shot extra whipped cream’ order of another regular, one that was not with the newest group of regulars. Was the order ridiculous? Sure, but that’s why we offer ridiculous shit. 

“Charlotte,” I smiled, clipboard in hand as I worked on another round of ordering the following Wednesday. Looking up I saw that it was Paul, his smile came as easily as mine had. “I was wondering,” I raised an eyebrow and waited for the inevitable weird personal request that I handled from regulars all the time, but his surprised me. “Does the shop ever offer after hours space for gatherings?” 

I considered what he was asking. “You mean like renting out the shop for a party? Or-”

“Not a party, more like a business meeting.” I wondered if it would be lucrative to give it a whirl, the owner left the running of the store up to me, so I had full reign to make it happen. I also wondered what type of business he was involved in, since I’d only ever seen him dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Some kind of tech start up maybe? “We wouldn’t need catering, just the space, really.” 

“We?” They still stayed apart while they were in the shop, the five of them, but I was curious if he’d admit they were together. “How many would be taking up space?” 

“Five to seven,” clever, I thought, an answer without answering. “We wouldn’t even need-” He was trying to find the word so I thought I’d help.

“A barista or me?” I studied him, even as I felt eyes watching us. “You want to rent the shop, and have me hand over the keys to the shop, and just leave?” 

“Just for one evening,” he was still smiling, but it wasn’t looking as natural now. “It sounds strange I know, but-”

“How much?” His eyes widened. “I mean, if I say yes, how much would you be willing to rent the shop for?” I lived over the shop, I’d hear them if they were tearing it apart or if they were robbing the place. Hell, I heard the mice scurry through once and got pest control in before it became a health inspector nightmare. 

“Um, I don’t know-” Caught him off guard apparently. He shot a look over my shoulder and my suspicions were confirmed.

I didn’t turn, but I did let my smile widen. Leaning closer to ‘Paul’, I whispered, “Do you need to check with Clay, Charles, JJ, and Asha?” His eyes met mine and his Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “It’s OK, just get back with me with a number, and if it seems fair, a date.” 

I turned back to my inventory and ordering, and paid no more attention to him or the others. Starting to feel very ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’, I wandered into the small kitchen to check on the baking supplies. I baked our pastries, a secret that no one knew, not even my baristas. They all assumed the owner, who was my uncle, hired a pastry chef who worked weird hours. Yeah, I thought, me. 

I made sure that I had enough of the staple stock, but then I added the seasonal ingredients I used, along with some new things that I wanted to try. Once I was finished, I let Keli and Rachel know that I’d be in the office sending out the order. Paul’s eyes met mine and he gave me a small nod, but I wasn’t sure if that meant he had an offer or if he was still working on it. Shrugging I went back to the office and used my laptop to place the order.

A soft knock came as I was hitting send on the final order and I absently told whomever it was to enter. Looking up I was a little shocked to see it was Clay and not one of my employees. I watched as he looked around the small space with interest, wondering if he was about to confirm my suspicions about his group.

“Paul tells me you’re open to renting us the café for our-” I watched him try to think of what word ‘Paul’ may have used for their get together. 

“Meeting?” Smiling up at him as he took the word and ran with it.

“Yes, our meeting,” I watched him lean against the wall beside the door, ignoring the two chairs in front of my desk. “We’ll need the space for about three hours, so how does --” he offered me a tidy sum and I felt my eyebrows raise. “If that’s not enough, I’m open to negotiations.”

Swallowing hard I found myself blinking again. Shit, how did he manage that? Short circuiting my brain usually involved more nudity. “That sounds more than fair, since ‘Paul’ mentioned that you wouldn’t be needing refreshments or any service.” Clay’s smile started small, but soon it was full blown and I felt another blinking session build. Fuck. “Give me a date, and I’ll make the arrangements.” 

“Tomorrow.” Blink. “I’m sorry, but it’s of the utmost importance, and we really have to-” Tomorrow? What the literal fuck?

“Fine.” Wait, what? “Cash upfront, and what hours are you asking for?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope that was clearly stuffed full of money. Seriously? Please God, don’t let me be renting out to the fucking cartel. I took it and tucked it into my drawer for a moment. 

“From closing until-”

“Three hours after?” I smirked up at him. “I’ll hand whomever wants the spare keys after the last employee leaves,” something told me that secrecy was important in this situation. “Just lock up when you’re done, and put the keys through the mail slot.” What the hell? If I heard something go batshit, I’d call the police from my apartment and sit back with popcorn while the five of them were herded off to the clink. 

He was back to leaning against the wall, and I glanced up at him again with a hint of confusion. “Is there something else?” I asked, biting my lip and pretending I didn’t notice his eyes land on the movement. 

“You’re not gonna ask any questions about our ‘meeting’?” Shrewd eyes, laser focused on me, and if I were the squirming type, I might have partook in the exercise. I shook my head dismissively. “Not even a little curious?”

“Not even a bit.” I stood up and moved toward the door. “Now, if you’re finished?” He took the hint, but as he passed through the door I held open, he managed to brush against my body and I had to hold my breath so I wouldn’t gasp or moan. Fuck. “Have a good day, Clay.”

He looked over his broad shoulder at me with that dimpled smile of his and assured me that he most definitely would. Damn it, I thought, shutting the door behind him and letting myself fall back into my desk chair with a small squeak. He’d be enjoying his day with his girlfriend, and I’d be a hot mess for the rest of mine.


	3. Brain Damage Is Better Than A Stalker, Right?

The next day was free of Clay and his crew, as I was thinking of them now. I wondered, briefly, if he’d reconsidered, and felt happy that the money he’d given me was still in the safe and not deposited. I hadn’t told my uncle that I’d rented out the shop. It wasn’t like he’d care, really, but I felt sure that the less people who knew about Clay and the others, the better. Strange, but true. 

I’d just said goodbye to Rachel and Erin, the girls that had worked with me during the evening shift, the sun dipping below the horizon as I shooed them on their way. Turning over the open sign to closed, I was locking the top lock when Clay was suddenly staring at me through the door. Well, that answered my question. Clicking the lock back open, I opened the door with a smile. “I guess you’d be wanting these-” I tossed him the spare keys, ones that ONLY locked and unlocked the front door. “Remember to turn off the lights when you’re done, don’t open the door for anyone craving a scone, and have a good meeting.” I was offering this as I walked through the shop toward the back. The interior entrance to my apartment was the one I used most often.

“Where are you going?” Looking over my shoulder I realized he’d relocked the door and was following me curiously.

“To my apartment,” I tilted my head toward the door that no one seemed to notice until they needed a bathroom. “I live upstairs.” I could see his face change and wondered just what I’d gotten myself into. “Is that a problem?”

Clay’s face relaxed again, as though whatever passed had been just my imagination. “No, of course not, Charlotte. I thought you were getting a deposit ready or something, I was going to offer to walk with you to the bank. Or drive-” I smiled at his attempt at chivalry. 

“Thanks, but I go during the day.” I turned again, using a key that only me and ONE other person had access to to open the door leading to the stairs for my apartment. “If you need anything, I’m just-” I pointed up, and smiled. 

I locked the door behind me and climbed my stairs, wondering again, what the hell had I gotten into?

I had barely pulled my hair down out of the topknot I’d worn all day, replaced my work clothes with a pair comfortable shorts and a ratty t-shirt from my college days when I heard the soft knock on my outer door. No one, ok, rarely anyone ever came to my apartment so that was new.

“Hello?” I opened the door and blinked at the hot tech geek, ‘JJ’ standing on the small porch that was hidden on the back of the building. “Can I help you?”

He ran his hand over his short hair and looked abashed at standing outside my home. “Hey, Charlotte, I was wondering-”

“How did you know I live here?” It was an abrupt question, but my spidey senses were tingling. “No one really knows I live here.” Seriously, very few people outside my closest friends and family knew. And I mean CLOSEST. 

‘JJ’ blushed, and for a moment I forgot my irritation and suspicion. Only a moment, though. “Yeah, so-” he sighed and shyly smiled at me. “I saw you go through the door downstairs early on, and wondered what was behind it, and I looked online- They have records of EVERYTHING online, and found the plans for the building and long story short, figured out you probably lived up here.” I raised an eyebrow. “Guess you aren’t the only one who sounds stalker-like, huh?” 

Biting my lip, I considered my next question. “So, you looked on the county website, found the blueprints for this building and decided that I MUST live upstairs because you saw me go through a mystery door downstairs once?” I hoped I sounded as disbelieving as I felt, but at the same time I was curious why he’d bothered. “Why?”

“Why?” Now it was his turn to look confused. “Why did I look on the website or-” He left it hanging and I sighed.

Shaking my head, leaning against the doorway I stared up at him. “No, why are you here now?” 

He smiled and it changed his face entirely. “Oh, that’s simple. I wanted to take you to dinner.” Wait, what? I blinked and thought fondly of a time when I wasn’t part owl. “So will you go to dinner with me?”

Another head shake, not to say no, but to clear out the cobwebs that had to be growing in my fucking brain for this entire situation to be happening in front of me. “Dinner? With you?” I needed to figure out what fucking alternative universe I’d slipped into for this to make sense. “Sure,” I let the word trail off. Vague agreement seemed best for now. I mean the weirdo had researched the building to find out that I lived here. If I believed his story.

“Great, I’ll wait here while you get ready.” What? I raised an eyebrow. “I saw a really great Italian place a couple blocks over-”

“Enzo’s?” I asked, clearly my mouth wasn’t nearly as behind as my brain felt. “It’s one of my favorite spots.”

His eyes and face seemed to light up. “Great, so grab some clothes and let’s-”

“Now?” I asked, blinking again. “You want to go to dinner now?” He nodded and I felt like I had missed a few beats. I could close the door, call the police and tell them I had a living breathing stalker on my doorstep, but he seemed harmless. I mean awkward, goofy as fuck, but attractive and somehow I knew he wasn’t planning on hurting me. What? Some people have that kind of intuition, right? “OK, just give me a-” I left the door open and wandered into my bedroom to change. As I pulled on a dress, I was staring at myself in the standing floor length mirror and saw that I was still blinking repeatedly. Fuck. I had brain damage. Probably dropped a heavy bag of coffee beans or flour on my fucking head and was actually laying on the floor in the shop while my employees stood around and contemplated who would call the ambulance. Feeling calmer at the thought that all of this entire fucking week was going on in my broken brain, I slipped on shoes and grabbed my purse. Screw it, at least dream/brain damaged me might have fun.


	4. Can You SMELL in a Concussed Forced Dream?

JJ, if that was his real name, which even my possibly brain fevered self had doubts about, wasn’t a horrible date. He kept his hands to himself, only holding my chair and the door for me. We’d walked, he’d convinced me that Enzo’s wasn’t far and the evening was pretty temperate, so I agreed. The entire trip was spent making idle talk, and me sharing more than he did. 

He held the door of Enzo’s open for me and the scent of tomatoes and garlic hit my nose so heavily that I started to have second thoughts about my possible brain damage. Could you smell things when you were knocked loopy? I considered that as the hostess led the way to a small table in a dark corner, and as I sat in the chair JJ held out for me I still wasn’t sure. I mean on one side, it could be the memory of the scents that I knew Enzo’s for, but on the other hand it was almost too strong to be a memory.

“You alright, Charlotte?” JJ had taken his seat across the small table from me, the tiny lamp that looked like the cliché candle in a wine bottle lighting his face barely. “It almost looks like-”

“If a person has a concussion or brain trauma can they hallucinate smells?” Cutting him off while also giving the waitress my drink order as she stared at me in surprise wasn’t something I’d usually do, but this felt extremely important, plus the walk had made me thirsty. 

Staring at me in shock as he gave his own order to the waitress, I waited for him to answer me. “I’m not sure-” he finally offered, glancing down at the menu. “What do you recommend?”

Brain damage, I thought to myself, since a normal conversation wouldn’t easily be diverted from the curiosity of why I’d ask. “I prefer the chicken alfredo with broccoli, but I don’t know if you’re more a red or white sauce type of guy.”

His soft smile made me settle back into the idea that regardless of whether I was completely screwed brain wise, at least I was safe. “I can eat either, actually I can eat damn near anything.” I grinned and that started us off on what the grossest thing he could possibly stand eating could be. 

The waitress returned, happy to see that the table seemed to have returned to normal. “Here Char,” I looked up and realized it was Carrie DiMarco, Enzo’s daughter waiting on us. Shit, how out of it was I? “You look a little more-”

“Myself?” I asked, wondering why she was waiting tables since normally she was the me to Enzo’s version of The Little Drip. “Yeah, I had a minute. Why are you-”

A rueful smile and she told me that they were short staffed since two of the waitresses and one hostess had all gone out on maternity leave at once. I raised my eyebrow. “Good thing you didn’t order the water, right?” I chuckled and started to order, but she rolled her eyes. “Char, you’ve been coming in here since you and I were toddlers, you’re gonna have the chicken alfredo with broccoli, a half order of the garlic bread, and for the love of God,” she crossed herself causing another giggle to escape my lips. “NO parmesan cheese.” I smirked. “Now, what will you be having?” She’d turned her attention to JJ and waited, no pen or paper in her hand. 

JJ went safe, spaghetti and meatballs, and he smiled at me and said he didn’t mind parmesan cheese. She left and he studied me as I took a long drink from my glass. “What?” I was starting to feel self conscious with his attention on me. “Do I already have something on my face?” 

Shaking his head, he sat back. “No, it’s just-” He took a deep breath and asked me if I always lived in the little coastal town I was born in.

“Most of my life,” I smiled as I moved the silverware a few centimeters over. “I went away for college, but my uncle wanted to retire and move to Florida, and he knew I loved The Little Drip as much as he did, so he asked me to take over for him.” He knew I loved to bake, that I had no direction, and he wanted to be sure that I was safe and taken care of, I thought, but that wasn’t something anyone really knew. 

“Your uncle and you are close?” Carrie had returned with a basket of bread and I shook my head at the amount she’d brought. 

“What? Just because you watch the carbs doesn’t mean he does,” she nodded toward JJ. “I mean look at him, he looks like he might need to keep up his strength.” I grinned at her and saw JJ’s eyes widen. Oh dear God, had he never been flirted with at all? 

“Yeah, he might waste away and poof a good stiff wind will carry him away.” I winked at JJ and saw him swallow hard. 

“A damn shame if that happens,” she was shaking her head as she walked away and I caught him staring at her swaying hips. I had to fight back another laugh. 

“Yes,” I answered, when he turned his attention back to the table. “My uncle and I are close.” He’d raised me, after Mom- I pushed the really sad thought aside and pushed the bread basket toward him. “The bread here is amazing, I HAVE to watch myself with it because I’d fill up on it alone and then I wouldn’t have room for the homemade pasta.” 

The rest of the date was much like the start of it. It was more like a friendly dinner, which was nice, if not earth shattering. We started back toward the shop, and I was about to ask him about his connection to Clay and the others, thinking that the few beers he’d had while we enjoyed Enzo’s offerings might have loosened his lips, but I stopped when I saw the orange glow coming from the direction of The Little Drip. Orange and smoke. Shit. 

“Is that-” I started moving faster, praying internally that I hadn’t left the business that my uncle entrusted me with to a bunch of fucking psycho arsonists’ hands. JJ kept up with me easily, that happens when you run with a giant, I guess. 

I turned the corner to the street I lived and worked on and gave a relieved sigh that I felt immediately guilty about when I noticed that while The Little Drip was safe and untouched, the building across the street was not. I had no idea what the building was currently used as, it had changed hands so many times that it was hard to keep up, but now it was a smoldering ruin with police and firemen working to figure everything out. 

I noticed, absently, that JJ was still with me, walking me all the way up the backstairs to my apartment, but I honestly couldn’t say what we said in parting. I could still see what was left of the flames flickering up the building across the street, and sighed knowing that my bedroom windows faced it. The door was locked behind me, and in a fog I tugged off the dress and kicked off my shoes, pulling back on my ragged shirt and shorts and worked hard to make the blinds in my bedroom close enough to almost blur out the scene that was still happening beyond the glass. Almost, but even as I closed my eyes to try to sleep before my early morning alarm, I could still see the smoke and the orange tinge the sky had taken from the fire. And I could swear that the smell of smoke was soaking through the apartment and invading my nose.


	5. Maybe I Should Start Drinking... Coffee, I Meant Coffee

I woke up before the sun rose, as was my normal routine, which would have made my mom laugh if she was around. I could still hear the faint sound of her voice as she mocked my hatred of mornings, but I thought I could have argued that since it was still dark it wasn’t TRULY morning. Of course, she never understood how I could hate the taste of coffee, yet love the smell so much that I spent all my extra time in Uncle Davey’s coffee shop. I remembered the phone in the café ringing and hearing the baristas he had working grinning as they confirmed I was there, and knowing that Mom was checking on me again, even though I was a street wise ten year old by then. 

A quick shower, dressing in one of my casual, yet business appropriate outfits that my apron would cover perfectly while I mixed and baked up the day’s sweet offerings, I had my hair up in the ever present and perfect for baking topknot and down the stairs I went. I was happy to see that the group that had rented the shop had turned off the lights like I’d asked, that they hadn’t made even a hint of a mess was a welcome surprise, and then I was called to the kitchen by my need to create something tempting and edible.

Baking had always been something that calmed me, that centered me in a way that nothing else seemed to. I loved to read, but even taking up a book tended to make my heart race, disappearing into a story wasn’t calming, it was inspiring. Baking? Baking was something I found both enjoyable, and easy. I mixed and baked, letting the scent of cinnamon, chocolate, and a hint of sugar and vanilla fill the air. I’d be finished long before the first employee arrived, which would be Keli again. She was my standard opener, and while she could be a snotty little shit, she was good at her job. Mostly. 

“Morning, Keli,” I offered when she walked in moments after the pastry cases were filled to the brim with fresh treats and the scent of coffee filled the air. 

She muttered a greeting, which I could understand since I wasn’t exactly a morning person myself, but she’d ASKED for the morning shift so she could have evenings off with her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s son. I watched as she put on her smock, a requirement so their clothing wouldn’t be ruined by the cleaner that kept the tables sanitary and I knew for a fact that enough icing on any fabric would kill it. She seemed even more quiet and off than usual and I was trying to decide if I should ask her about it or not when the bell on the door chimed, even though the open sign hadn’t been flipped. 

Looking up from where I’d been getting the register ready for the day, I was about to tell the eager early bird that we’d be open in a few minutes, when I realized it was two cops. Damn it, I managed to put the fire across the street completely out of my head.

“Hello, officers, how I can help you?” Why bother with the standard greeting? From the looks on their faces, and the fact that one was roaming around the café looking out the front windows that faced the ruins across the street, I thought I knew why they were here.

The policeman who had stayed in front of me while his partner stalked around the open room smiled at me. Good cop, I thought. “Miss-” he looked at his notebook and back up at me. “Ramble?” I nodded, and sighed at what was coming next. “Are you related to Councilman Ramble?” Yes, he’s my dirtbag father, I wanted to say, but that wouldn’t do in our quaint little town. 

“That’s my father,” I gritted, hoping that my smile hadn’t dropped. I waited for the next question.

“You manage this shop, correct?” I raised an eyebrow at the idiocy, but nodded again. “Were you home last night, Miss Ramble?” 

“Charlotte, please, I insist.” I offered, hoping it sounded sweet and accommodating. “I came home after dinner with a friend at Enzo’s.” His turn to raise an eyebrow. “We were getting to know one another better, so I guess it was more of an acquaintance to friendship dinner. I came along as the firemen were putting out the fire.” 

His partner had joined him and was studying me with an interest that I didn’t want to consider. “While you were at this dinner, friendly or whatever, did you know you left the lights on in the shop?” I nodded. Of course, I did, I assured them. I had planned on doing paperwork, but then after I got home, I turned them off and went to bed. “That doesn’t make much sense, Miss Ramble, since the lights were on right before the fire started, but off when we showed up.” Shit. I shook my head, squinting like I was trying to remember the day before. 

“You know what,” I hoped I sounded like I fucking just remembered that I fucking forgot my day because of the routine of it. “I’m so used to finishing my paperwork during the day, deposits and all, that I think I came down BEFORE dinner and turned them off.” I slapped my forehead like I realized I was a putz. “The days, gentlemen, they blend together like a fine Columbian coffee. Speaking of which, could I offer you a free cup? And a pastry?” Butter up the donut eaters, Char, hope for the best.

Good cop, suddenly coming to the realization that they hadn’t introduced themselves and being tempted by GOOD coffee and FRESH pastries, offered that he was Detective Marks, while grumpy bad cop was Detective Johnson. I redirected their attention to the practically glowing case that held the fruits of my early morning baking, giving them both what the pointed to, and then filled large insulated carryout cups of their choice of coffee blend. Smiling I hoped like fuck that I’d ended the questioning, but Detective Johnson didn’t get the bribe idea well.

“That’s good coffee.” He muttered into his cup, then his eyes locked back onto me and he opened his mouth. “Now, Miss Ramble, since you turned off the lights BEFORE your little friend thing, and you weren’t home during the start of the fire, could you think of any strange people that have been loitering around lately?” My mind flashed to the five newcomers. 

I shook my head. “No, we mostly see regulars. And we get NEW regulars all the time.” I hoped like FUCK that Keli wasn’t paying attention. I needed her input like I needed a hole in my fucking head. “No one stands out.” Again a flash of the five rose up in my eyes. Don’t think about them, asshole. “Sorry, I can always-” like he read my thoughts, which was a scary fucking idea, Detective Marks handed me his card. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Please do, Charlotte,” he took a sip of his coffee and his eyes closed in appreciation. “And thanks for the coffee and treats.” With a wink, which his partner looked ready to make permanent, they left. 

The morning went along normally, although none of the five came in for their daily dose of free wifi and amazing refreshments, and I tried VERY hard not to let my mind wander to whether or not they had anything at all to do with the torching of my across the street neighbor. Fuck.


	6. So Can Hitting Your Head Against Your Desk, Repeatedly, Cause Trauma?  Asking For...

I went another two days without seeing the fabulous, and possibly arsonist five. Then on the third day, unlike the other days that the group would ramble in, it wasn’t JJ or Paul or Charlie that came in first, no, on the third day God gave me Clay. OK, God didn’t GIVE me Clay, but he came first. Shit. Let me take a minute to find a way to phrase this without a sexual innuendo.

It took awhile, I know, but if you’ve seen Clay, I think you’d understand the issue. Anyway, Mr. White Button Down Black Jacket (see, if Keli can do it, so can I), came waltzing in like he wasn’t a suspected arsonist. Maybe I was the ONLY one who suspected him and his group, but he didn’t seem to act like he thought my mind had gone there.

I heard Keli’s mutter, whatever she’d been twitchier about the day after the fire had faded, and now she was normal twitchy. And then he was standing in front of me again. Damn it. “Charlotte,” I looked up as he took a sip from his cup of coffee, black if Keli knew her shit, and she normally did. “Could I have a word?” Sure, I thought you can have a shit ton of words, bucko. 

I told Keli I’d be in my office and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t follow me immediately. Clearly we were on spy arsonist time now. Shit. 

It took a few beats after I’d taken my chair and opened my laptop, I mean if we’re pretending we’re not having a clandestine meeting, act naturally (?) before I heard the soft knock that he’d given the first time he visited my tiny office. Another offer for him to enter and then there he was leaning against the wall studying me. 

“I’m sure you have some ideas about-” He started, but I held up a hand stopping him in his tracks.

“I seriously DON’T want to know.” I didn’t, plausible deniability right? “Just tell me that no one was killed?” His gaze dropped and so did my stomach. Fuck. Shutting my eyes, I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “OK, I REALLY don’t want to fucking know.”

“They weren’t a good person, if that helps,” he offered, and my eyes opened to his dimples peeking out a bit. Are you kidding me? My stomach had a new twist, and it wasn’t from the guilt of someone’s death with my possible aid. Damn him. “Charlotte, we, I will make SURE you aren’t involved, that your name isn’t-”

I snorted and he stared at me and the sound. “Too late, Clay, if that is your real name.” I shook my head and had to fight slamming it down on the desk to give myself that brain trauma I thought I had the night of the fire. “The police were already here. You know, since the fire happened RIGHT across the street from this shop, and since I can’t fucking tell them when the goddamn lights were on or off.” At that my head did land on the desk, but not to brain myself, just to make me calm down. Damn it. I saw money and let it tempt me and LOOK at how well it turned out. 

“Hey,” his voice was WAY too close and I couldn’t look up, but then I felt his fucking hand on my back. Damn it. “Charlotte, are you alright?” I snorted again, but it was slightly muffled by my desk. “I, I never wanted to get you involved, that's why I had Jen-” he stopped and I waited. Jen? Who the fuck- JJ, his real name was Jen?

I rolled my head to the side so I could see him out of the corner of my eye. “You sent JJ?” He swallowed, I could see his Adam’s apple bob. “So I helped a group of mad arsonists, and possible murderers, AND got a pity date.” Turning back so my face was down on my desk again, I groaned. “This shit keeps getting better and better.” I heard and felt his harsh chuckle. 

“I’d hardly call it a ‘pity date’, that boy lit up like a Christmas tree when I gave him the assignment.” I rolled my eyes, and waited. “Charlotte, honestly, I had hoped that it wouldn’t-” he struggled for whatever he was trying to say. “You’re not the type of person I usually use during an Op.” It came out quiet and I was tempted to look up at him, but I couldn’t. I had a LOT of shit to work through, and seeing his face wouldn’t make it easier to handle. 

“I’ll be fine,” I murmured into the desk, hoping he heard. “I just have to- process everything.” 

“The police-” Clay seemed to be chewing his words, but I shook my head and groaned.

“Don’t worry about Detective Flirt and Detective Grumpy Bear, I’ll keep plying them with coffee and food, sooner or later they’ll be either too fat to run after their suspects or so sweetened up they’ll give up.” I heard another chuckle, but it came from closer to the door and I realized I missed the warmth of his hand now that I noticed it wasn’t on my back any longer. “Or I’ll play stupid, like I’ve apparently been anyway. Easy peasy, right?” 

“Yeah, Charlotte,” his voice was as quiet as it had been when he said he didn’t use people like me for Ops. “Easy.” And then I heard the door open and close and Clay was gone.

I didn’t return to the café for a full hour. I knew Keli could handle it, plus Sandra had come in while I was in the office, her time staggered so she would be here longer than Keli. I made work, thinking that I’d rather eat glass than go into the main part of the shop and see Clay and Asha making time at a counter, while JJ or Jen was at the table near the window, Charlie would be hovering in the darkest corner he could stake out, and Paul would be smiling like nothing was wrong in the world. Not today, Satan’s assholes. 

When I eventually came out, mostly to grab a cup of tea or a bottle of juice and something to munch on while I hid myself away, I realized my worries were for nothing. None of the five were in the café, and I felt a lurch in my stomach and couldn’t decide if it was from relief, or disappointment.


	7. Math is NOT My Kryptonite, Even If It Looks Like It

I had a good couple of months of normalcy. I barely noticed that the five arsonists/murderers weren’t around anymore. I definitely didn’t start up from wherever I might be every single fucking time the bells on the entrance chimed. I most certainly didn’t nearly break my fucking leg on my own goddamn coffee table when one of the specialty ingredients I ordered came to my apartment door when the delivery driver came after hours.

You know what? Normalcy is wonderful. I mean, the amount of THINGS I got completed. The baseboards of the cafe, kitchen, and my entire fucking apartment, not to mention the public restrooms in the shop (seriously, gag, don’t mention them) have never been cleaner. I also made sure that there wasn’t a speck of dust in the entire shop, or my apartment. I think I made Keli worry a little bit when I started sweeping the sidewalk outside The Little Drip. It was hard to tell. Do scowls and squinting equal concern?

I hardly noticed that they weren’t around at all. It really made it easier every time that Detective Marks and Detective Johnson came in to see if my memory had been jogged at all about the night of the fire. They hadn’t mentioned the dead person, and neither did the news. I started to wonder if maybe Clay had been mistaken. If there was a dead body, wouldn’t it be news? Instead the focus seemed to be on the fire itself, as though a building was more important than a person’s life.

It was at the beginning of the third month when I managed to NOT glance up at all when the bell signaled a customer’s arrival. My nose and finger was busy with my clipboard, Wednesday the worst day of my week, but one of the best Addams family members, but then I heard it. Keli’s mutter of the order and I fought against raising my head. Nope, not gonna happen today.

“Charlotte?” I sighed, and rolled my shoulders. Hallucinations brought on by trauma (the fire, renting to the firestarters, the aftermath of said fire) were perfectly normal. Even if they were auditory now. “Hey,” damn it, I thought, if I look up and the fucking shop has Mrs. Angley standing in front of me asking one more fucking time if I could add a coffee combo that ONLY Nestle and their Nespresso machines had, I would explode.

I flicked my eyes up and shook my head again. Shit. From auditory to visual, I wondered if I could afford therapy. If I wasn’t completely batshit, then JJ or Jen was standing in front of me. If I was, well fuck if I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my traitorous face. Fucker.

“Hey,” I offered, sneaking a glance at Keli to see if she was dialing for a loony wagon to come fetch me. She was busy waiting on another customer, but when she turned to make their order she shrugged and shot JJ’s back a look. Shared hallucination? Nah, Keli didn’t give a shit about anything in the shop, much less the customers. “How are you?” Clearly I hadn’t lost my damn mind, or at least not all of it.

JJ/Jen’s face broke out in that awkward smile that he charmed me with the first round, his hand scrubbing over his head like he wanted to DO something. “Yeah, good, I think.” I shook my head again, every question I asked him always seemed like it was too hard to work out for him. Which was complete bullshit because I had a feeling that he was smarter than anyone could fathom. “You?”

Another sigh escaped. “I’d be better if I didn’t have almost weekly visits from two cops about that weird fire that broke out across the street.” The debris was gone, but Flirty and Grumpy’s interest hadn’t died down. “Hopefully they wind up the investigation and I can stop footing their sweet and coffee bill.” I tempered it with a smile. “I better get back to my-”

“Tallies and numbering?” The deep voice cut in and I wanted to shoot myself, but I hated guns. Fuck. “Hey, Charlotte.” I shut my eyes to steady myself and forced what I hoped would be a neutral smile on my face.

“Clay,” I turned away with my clipboard and went back to counting, firmly feeling that we had our little talk and while they very sight of him would no doubt cause parts of me a LOT of unfulfilled pleasure, my brain said ‘fuck no’. Of course I didn’t know Clay all that damn well, but I definitely assumed he understood the brush off a woman turning her back to him was. I was wrong.

“Charlotte,” he was beside me, and I shut my eyes again. “Can’t count with your eyes closed.”

“Maybe I’m doing mental math, Clay.” I ground out, praying him and his ragtag group of charismatic assholes would take a hint, even as my other parts were battling the prayer to smithereens at how happy they were to see them again.

I could feel the heat of him close to me, but I had no idea how close until I opened my eyes. Fuck. He was right beside me, his arm almost brushing mine, and I wanted to hit him, or maybe just run my finger up his- Oh, no you don’t, Charlotte, get your libido under control, you tart.

“Tell me what the problem is, two heads are better than one, right?” I was thinking about his second head and realized that WASN’T what he was talking about, was it? Shit. I felt my mouth go dry. How could he affect me so fucking much, we hadn’t actually fucking TOUCHED?

Swallowing and trying to get saliva from anywhere at this point, a thought that shot another fucking dirty thought through me as I fucking imagined his mouth and tongue moving with mine- Wait, what was the question?

“Charlotte?” Damn it. “What addition problem are you working through? Or is it subtraction?” I flashed on the old dirty joke that went ‘Sex is like math: Add the bed, Subtract the clothes, Divide the legs, and pray to God you don’t Multiply!’ Fuck, not helping. Looking Clay up and down from out of the corner of my eye, I thought maybe multiplying with him wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Shit.

I had to focus. Math, eyes shut, right. “I was trying to work out how many more of these,” I moved the hand closest to him, and fuck if it didn’t brush against his crotch as I reached for a bag of random fucking coffee beans. Goddamn it, really?!

He hissed out a bit of air when my knuckles touched the zipper of his pants and I felt the blush flare up from my toes to my hairline. Shit, shit, shit. “That was unexpected,” I couldn’t look up at him, not while I was holding a hefty bag of coffee beans and after hearing the tone he used I imagined he was wearing a smug and mocking smile. Fucker. I swallowed down the fact that I’d FELT him. Through his pants, and I fucking imagined underwear of some sort, and fuck if I didn’t want to try it without the extra barriers. Damn it.

“I was reaching for these,” I held up the bag of beans. “It’s not MY fault you were hovering.” There, righteous indignation. That works on TV all the damn time, right? I felt him looking down at me, even if my eyes refused to meet his. My shame wouldn’t allow it.

“Right, the math problem.” He sounded as convinced as I had when my mom insisted that the Easter bunny was real, even as I asked her how he laid fucking eggs. “How many of-” his hand met mine where it was holding the bag of beans and I felt the blush grow hotter. Could you get heat stroke from your own blush? Asking for me. “These, do you usually have on hand?” Hand? Like the one you have tight against mine? Think, Charlotte, think.

Clipboard, fuck I nearly danced when I remembered it. Glancing down, without realizing that we were still holding the damn bag of fucking beans, I saw the control number and gave it to him. “By my account, Charlotte, you need ONE bag.” Damn it. I felt hotter than ever, and now I couldn’t decide if it was my face or other parts that were throwing off the most heat, his hand was still holding mine and the bag. “Any other math you want me to help with?” The mind is a torturous asshole, because mine flashed on that fucking ‘problem’ I’d considered before. Nope, not today.

I took a beat or five before I answered. My brain was overheating, my face was on fire, and please don’t make me talk about my panties. Letting out a long breath, I forced another smile onto my face. “No, that was the hardest one.”

And that did it, he chuckled and I really wished that the whole ‘the floor is lava’ thing was true, because then I could fucking die. “Oh, Charlotte, it’s not nearly as hard as it can get.” Damn it.


	8. Scones and Pants Don't Mix, Trust Me.

I went through the rest of inventory feeling like the hand that brushed Clay’s coffee beans, and that he held in his own was on fire. It tingled, and it burned a little, and I was no doubt completely fucking insane. I felt someone’s eyes on me, but I refused to look up from the fucking clipboard. It could be Clay, sure, but it could also be the girlfriend who looks like she could crack walnuts, or my fucking head with her thighs. So let me think about that-- No thanks.

I told Keli I was heading into the office to send the order, and I grabbed a bottle of juice and a scone wrapped in a napkin and headed back with my clipboard. Laptop open, clipboard beside me, I opened my juice and took a sip when I heard it. The soft knock and I nearly spewed my fucking juice all over my laptop screen. No, he wouldn’t.

“Come in,” I offered, thinking that the one time I ignored a knock it would be Keli or Mary coming back to ask a question. But no, I didn’t ignore it and it was HIM. Fuck. 

“Thought I’d come in and see if you had any harder problems, Charlotte.” I shut my eyes and prayed to God, Satan, and hell probably all the saints and half the demons for strength. For what, I didn’t know, but I felt I needed strength. “See, I came just in time, your eyes are closed, how hard is it this time?” God-fucking-damn it. 

“Are you a test of some sort?” I met his eyes where he’d taken a seat for once in front of my desk. “Like is there a hidden camera somewhere and sooner or later someone’s going to jump out and scream ‘Punk’d’ or something ruder, right?” He was studying me like I was the best entertainment he’d ever experienced. Guess I’m better than a fire. I sighed. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Is it weird that I just like talking to you, Charlotte?” His eyes were twinkling, I swear, and his dimples were deep with happiness. 

“Char,” I offered. And his eyebrow raised. “My FRIENDS call me Char, not Charlotte.” Why am I doing this? He was temptation on legs with a GIRLFRIEND hovering somewhere nearby no doubt. “And I don’t know if it’s weird or not, Clay, I don’t know you.” 

He nodded his assent to the fact. “Then go to dinner with me.” Wait, what? Jesus, was this another pity date? “It’s not a pity date, Char,” he tested out my nickname and smiled. “Let’s go to dinner, and get to know one another.”

I squinted at him. “The last time I went to dinner with one of you, I became the most visited on our local police department’s roster. Am I going to come home to find the building next door in cinders?” He laughed and shook his head. 

“No, we’ll go to dinner and come home to no flames, no smoke, no fire.” Then he gave me another flash of heat. “At least not in the streets, I can’t promise that your bed won’t be hotter than usual.” What the literal fuck?

“Not to be a party pooper to your flaming bed idea, but aren’t you and Asha-” another shake of his head, but his grin still didn’t drop. “Does Asha know that you aren’t?” 

“Ai- Asha isn’t with us now, and she and I were-” he was thinking of the appropriate designation for whatever they were. “Temporary. We both knew it, and now-” he spread his hands apart. 

“I’m the consolation prize?” I asked, staring at him, but not blinking this time. “Fun, so not a pity date, but a ‘any port in the storm’ type of hookup.” I shook my head and ripped a bite off my scone, biting into it, I stared him dead in the eye. “Pass.” 

His eyes widened. Apparently Clay didn’t get a lot of rejection. “Pass?” I nodded, chewing carefully and then taking a sip from my juice. “You pass on dinner and-”

“Yep.” I nodded again. “I pass on ‘you’ll do in a pinch’ sex. I may not have offers a plenty, but even JJ/Jen or whatever his name is made me feel special. I mean, special like having a stalker special, but he made it feel like our dinner was something he wanted, even if you did ORDER him to do it.” I realized that my lack of love life was getting worse the more I talked. “Regardless, I’ll pass on this half assed offer. I’m sure you can throw a rock and find another port in the storm.” It was a dismissal, but I had rendered him completely immobile. Huh, that might have come in handy to save that building.

I watched him process my words and then he tilted his head. “Out of what I said,” I shrugged, and he went on. “You got that I only want to go out with you because Ai-Asha isn’t here, and you’re the runner up?” I nodded, chewing another bite of my scone. He shook his head and stood up, making me feel like I could finally get my mind back on work, but instead of walking toward the door he stalked around my desk. Before I could make sense of what he was doing, I was on my feet and his mouth was on mine. Thank God I’d swallowed that bite because his tongue met mine and I nearly fell over. Choking would have sucked and ruined the moment. 

What could have been a violent kiss wasn’t, not even a tiny little bit. His arms were around me and then I was sitting on my desk, his tongue tasting mine and my hands sliding through his hair. I felt a lump under my ass, but shrugged it off, until it kept creeping into my enjoyment of Clay’s mouth on mine, his hands holding me tight, and I had to pull away. 

He was staring down at me in a haze of lust and confusion, but I leaned over and sighed. Fuck. “You just squished my scone with my ass,” and that made us both laugh, long and hard. Shit.

After a kiss like that, I kind of had to agree to dinner. And I also had to excuse myself to run up to my apartment and change my fucking pants since I had icing and crumbs all over the seam of my pants. Clay’s lips brushed against mine before he released me to go upstairs, telling me he’d let one of my employees know that I had to get something from my apartment. 

Upstairs, I took a look into the mirror as I switched my bottoms and I was surprised how normal I looked. I mean, bright eyes, flushed cheeks, but NORMAL. As though a sexy as fuck, arsonist/murderer hadn’t just kissed the breath out of me. I sat down on the bed as the reality of who Clay MIGHT be rushed back into the forefront of my mind. Fucking hell. How the hell did I forget?


	9. Too Much Cock-- iness.

When I came back into the café after changing my pants I nearly groaned out loud. I hadn’t realized that it was time for my weekly visit from the local detectives, but there they were, sipping their complimentary coffee, and taking bites out of their free pastries. Straightening my back, I walked up with a smile locked and loaded.

“Detectives Marks and Johnson, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I could see Clay and JJ out of the corner of my eye, but they weren’t sitting together and they looked completely at ease. OK, glad someone is. 

Marks, as usual, returned my smile. “Charlotte,” his voice was a mimicry of Clay’s natural deepness. “Thought we’d stop by and see if-”

“The pastries were fresh?” I was trying for humor, but fuck if I wasn’t over this constant attention. His smile turned into a smirk.

“If the two of you are done flirting,” Johnson cut in. “Has your memory jogged yet? Can you recall any suspicious characters during the time of-”

“The fire,” I finished for him. “No, I still don’t remember anyone running around my cafe with a glint in his or her eye, flicking cigarette lighters or whatever caused the blaze.” My tone had gone back to frustrated. “I honestly don’t recall any fucking one who looked weird, or as if they had some kind of torch the world mentality. Coming here every week isn’t going to change that.” 

I could see the flash of white that made up Clay’s shirt out of my periphery. “Miss Ramble, may I remind you-”

“That someone lost their personal property,” again I was over this shit. “I know that. I do. I actually knew it before you came in the first time. A fire tends to do that to a building.” I was fighting an eye roll and was starting to feel like what I imagined Keli might feel like daily. “That doesn’t make my memory suddenly sprout a suspect for you, sorry.” I started to head back to my office, I still had to send the order. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, GENTLEMEN,” I made sure they knew from the way I said the word how much I doubted they embodied any of the traits that would make someone assume that they were in fact ‘gentlemen’, “I have an order to send.”

“We’ll be back,” Johnson muttered, and I wondered if he thought I couldn’t hear him, or hoped I did.

“And I’ll be waiting with bated breath,” I tossed back. “Without a flash of whoever might have lit up that building, I assure you.” I hope you fucking get that this is a wasted effort, was the implied message. As I walked past Keli I had to hold in a laugh as she was breathing her own commentary. 

“Freeloading, donut munching,” and it went on and on with every stereotype for a cop you could think of.

The order sent, once I cleaned up the completely destroyed leavings of my scone, I sat back in my chair and thought about Clay and the two determined cops. He hadn’t shuffled out, he hadn’t run away, so he was pretty fucking sure there was nothing to link him to the crime. I hadn’t been sitting for that long when that quiet knock came and I wondered what the literal hell?

Clay walked in and leaned against the wall again. I was about to ask him if he just hated chairs when he spoke first. “Every week?” I had to rewind to see if I missed part of the conversation. Has my brain checked out again? “Char, do they really come every week?” The cops, it dawned on me that he was talking about the cops. I nodded. “Why?”

“That’s an excellent question,” I was still leaning back in my chair, but now I had a better view. “They think I know something obviously, but I can’t figure out WHY. I mean, the light was on, the light was off, but I wasn’t here.” I knew they’d checked at Enzo’s about my ‘date’. Carrie had called once they stepped out the front door, asking me what the hell was going on, and I had to tell her that I had no freaking clue. “I almost wonder-” My father’s face flashed before my eyes, but I swatted it away. “No, that wouldn’t be why.”

He was studying me. “What wouldn’t be?” I sighed. 

“My daddy dearest is a councilman here, he’s well known, wealthy, and very connected.” I bit my lip and ignored Clay’s gaze landing on my teeth worrying the sensitive skin. “I doubt he’d take the time or energy to sic them on me.” He hadn’t taken the time or energy to get to know me when he walked out the door and moved down the street from us with his ‘younger model’, after all. 

Clay watched me, but I could see he was considering what I said carefully. “You think Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum might be harassing you because of your dad?” I shook my head, I honestly didn’t know, but the thought had crossed my mind. “Have they said anything about-” he stopped, and shook his own head. “No, I’m not going to pump you for information, not happening.” He was speaking mostly to himself, but I found myself sighing.

“It’s not pumping for information if I offer it willingly, right?” His eyes were still on me as I went on. “If you want to know if they’ve let anything slip about the rest of their investigation, the answer is no.” I bit my lip. “They can’t have anything if they’re focused on me, right?” He nodded, but I could tell he was running something through his head. Maybe thoughts about where they’d hidden the corpse, or what accelerants they’d used to ‘flame on’ the building. 

“About our date,” I blinked at the quick change of topic. “I was thinking, if you don’t mind, we could order in.” I felt a twist of lust that made no sense since I’d only kissed him once, for fuck’s sake. “Then we can just relax and-”

“Be closer to setting my bed on fire?” Even with the breathless sound of my voice, I managed to raise my eyebrow. His lips started curling like the fucking Cheshire Cat and I had to fight the urge to squirm, fuck. “And what type of dinner were you thinking we could order in?” That’s right, Char, run away from the thought of what he would look like naked on your bed. You’re at work, after all.

His smile didn’t drop, his eyes didn’t leave mine. “We could eat cardboard, Char, because dessert is what I’m looking forward to.” Shit. “In bed. Flames or no flames.” Damn it. I felt like I’d run a marathon as hard as it felt to catch my breath. 

“Dessert?” Damn it, another squeaky question. “In bed?” At least I’d managed to sound almost normal for that one, I thought, but I felt flushed, and hot.

Clay licked his lips. “Isn’t that the best place to have dessert?” Fuck. 

Come on, Charlotte Elizabeth Ramble, get a grip. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” 

“Nothing wrong with confidence, Char.” His dimples were taunting me, I fucking swear it. 

I swallowed and shook my head. “There’s such a thing as being too cocky, Clay.”

His smile grew and his eyes fucking twinkled. “You can never have too much cock- iness, Char-” and with a wink, a promise that he’d meet me after work, he walked out of my office like he hadn’t just worked me up into a useless fucking mess with just his damn voice.


	10. Dinner and Dessert...Not Necessarily in That Order

The day took forever to end, and I pretended it was simply because I’d had a long day. It wasn’t because Clay was lurking around all damn day. It wasn’t because I couldn’t settle on anything. And it DEFINITELY wasn’t because I was looking forward to our ‘date’. 

I said goodbye to Rachel and Erin, smiling as they shot a look over my shoulder at Clay still seated at the counter. “It’s fine, we’re having a meeting.” Rachel’s grin grew and I fought hard against rolling my eyes. “Have a good night.” Leave, now. Locking the door behind them, flipping the sign over, I turned around to see that he’d gotten to his feet. “I better make sure I turn off the lights,” I started flipping switches as I walked through the shop, feeling him behind me and hoping against hope that my ass didn’t look as huge as it felt right now.

“The shop opens at 7, what time do you have to be up?” He was asking as I unlocked the door downstairs that led to my apartment. Pretty sure that my stomach had been invaded by a flock of very excited hummingbirds, I climbed the stairs.

“I usually get downstairs around 4,” my eyes closed at the fact that Clay’s face was probably eye level with my ass as I climbed. Fucking giants. “Why ever do you ask?” It came out too husky to make my attempt at innocence sound believable. 

Clay’s deep chuckle had me shaking my head as I crossed the threshold to my apartment. I tossed my keys onto the coffee table and NEARLY began my routine of tossing off my clothes as I went through the rooms, but managed to stop myself when I remembered he was behind me. “What do you feel like having?” I tossed over my shoulder as I moved to the drawer I kept the take out menus in. 

“For dinner?” I turned and saw his eyes roaming over my body. Damn it. “I told you, whatever you pick is fine, I’m more interested in AFTER dinner.”

Shaking my head, I pulled all the menus out and leaned against the counter after I shut the drawer. “You know what?” His eyes met mine after taking another casual stroll down my length. “We could always have dessert first.” 

Clay moved faster than a man his size should be able to, but then again he kept managing to surprise me. His hands were around my waist and then his lips were on mine. If I’d thought the kiss that destroyed my scone was hot, boy was Clay holding out then. The menus were trapped between us, as were my hands clutching them, but my lips were very busy. Jesus.

“Dessert?” His breath fanned my lips as he came up for air. “You are pretty fucking sweet,” and then he had me in his arms, moving toward the bedroom he’d scouted as I grabbed the crinkled menus between us. Lips sliding along my jaw, and then I was on the bed, and the menus were scattered. Fully clothed, Clay was hovering over me in a heartbeat. His lips met mine again, and my hands finally moved into his hair, clutching him to me harder than I’d gripped anything or anyone before. 

Arching up into his body, smiling as his teeth nipped at my kiss swollen lip, I could FEEL him even more than I had when I grabbed for that fucking bag of coffee beans. He was hard and I was thinking that if the tiny brush from the back of my hand had made it burn and tingle, then feeling ALL of him, naked would probably make him right about how hot my bed was about to get. 

Clay’s fingers managed to come between our bodies and they worked to unbutton my shirt as mine released his head and were yanking at his black suit jacket. Our arms and hands nearly got us tangled in the clothing we were trying to remove, but we managed. Then his button down, which I had to fight just ripping open, buttons be damned, followed by my bra. Our pants, zippers coming down and buttons being torn free, joined the growing pile. Panties? Gone. Boxers? A memory. And then, in the middle of my bed, surrounded by every menu for every restaurant in town, Clay slid into my body and we both moaned so loudly that I was very glad that I lived over a closed coffee shop and not in an apartment building. 

“Fuck,” I gasped, and he smiled down at me and complied with what he took as a request. 

I’d go into graphic detail, but honestly it was so hot that even reliving it safely would make the world combust, again. It didn’t matter if he was on top or if he rolled and gave me full reign, I still managed to lose count of how many times I saw stars and flames and fireworks. It didn’t matter that by the time we finished, half of the menus were destroyed and the others were almost unreadable, because I knew that we’d have more dessert later. All that mattered was that Clay and I had somehow made my bed feel like the flickering flames of hell, but we managed to make it out alive and the bed was unscathed. There was a moment, toward the last round that an ominous creaking began, but a slight shift from him and it stopped. Or I went deaf, whichever.

What did we have for dinner? Food, I imagine. It didn’t matter, like he’d said earlier that day, because once it was delivered, we ate while completely naked and it could have been cardboard, because all we both wanted was another serving of dessert and boy oh boy did we get it.

I fell asleep in Clay’s arms, and was surprised when my alarm clock went off at three in the morning to find him still wrapped around me. I had a feeling, and it was a lurking one, that Clay rarely woke up with the women he ‘took to dinner’, with Asha possibly being the exception. As I rolled over to turn off the alarm, his hands were pulling me back once the noise stopped. 

“Ugh,” he groaned, his lips meeting the back of my neck. “Is it time to get up already?” I smiled as his fingers were sliding down my sides. 

“Seems like at least part of you is already up, Clay.” I rolled my backside against him, and felt how hard he was, causing a deep moan from his lips. 

His lips stayed on my neck while his hand slid lower, down my thigh and to my knee, lifting it to hook over his, opening me up for him. His fingers slid back, dipping between my legs to see if he was the only one ‘awake’. “And you’re ready for the day too,” a tiny nip and his hand was replaced by the first part of Clay to wake up. 

Dessert for breakfast? Yes, please.


	11. Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day...Even If It Consists of...

After Clay made sure that I was very happy to be awake, I headed toward my shower and had to bite my lip when he followed me. 

“I was planning on a quick-” but his lips met mine, his body was flush against mine and I forgot what my point was. Pressing me against the tiles of my shower stall, one hand adjusting the water, his lips and other hand not leaving me. His mouth took a stroll down my neck and I arched into him, feeling his chuckle tingle against my skin.

“Quickie?” He muttered, nipping my collarbone. And then he was inside of me, turning me so I was under the spray, and he was holding me up without aid of the wall. “Let’s see if we can-” I arched as he thrust and his moan felt even better than his laugh had, damn. “Fuck, Char,” and then his lips were back on mine and we were at it again. 

Somehow, and it would take a repeat performance where I was actually paying attention to something other than how Clay fit inside me perfectly, how his hands could be hard and tight or soft and teasing, how he could coax out a scream, a moan, or a gasp during the same encounter for me to take actual notice, but he managed to soap me up and wash my hair while the rest of our bodies were otherwise occupied. He had me pressed against the tiles again, holding tight to me as we came back down to reality. 

“Wow,” I breathed, finally capable of speech. “That was-”

“Wow?” His eyes met mine and I felt my breath leave me. “We’re just gettin’ started, Char.” My heart clenched while a twist of lust hit me at the same time. 

I managed to get dressed and ready for work, but don’t ask me how. I have no fucking clue how I kept my mind on pants, shirts, and my fucking hair while watching Clay redress himself and thinking what a fucking shame it was that we weren't in a fully nudist town so other women could envy me. Then I remembered that no one knew, not really, that this had happened. And I had the sobering thought that I didn’t fucking KNOW Clay. Hell, I wasn’t even sure that was his fucking real name. Shit.

He followed me down the back stairs, letting me unlock the door connecting my apartment to the shop, and I smiled as he asked if he could stay while I opened. “Sure, you can watch me bake,” his eyes widened, clearly expecting the same thing that my employees thought, that he’d see the mysterious baker that didn’t exist. “Come on, Romeo, let me get the ovens preheated.” 

Clay sat on one of the stools I kept in the kitchen for anyone who didn’t want to take their break with the customers, watching as I arranged the ingredients that I’d be using along the island counter. Gathering up the bowls, plugging in the stand mixer, and getting out the measuring cups and other things that I’d need, I asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee. 

“I’m good, want me to grab you something?” I smiled and told him my favorite juice, watching his back as he pushed through the swinging doors into the main shop area. He came back with two bottles, opening mine since my hands were busy and sitting it near me, he retook his seat. “You’re the baker?” My grin grew as I started the first batch of batter going in the mixer. “Does anyone else know?”

“My uncles do,” taking a sip of my juice, I started putting together the next round. “They knew I loved to bake, and I loved this coffee shop more than even the two of them did, so-” I shrugged. It had made sense, Davey and George had raised me after Mom- I blinked the thought away. My uncles had been my rocks, and they’d always wanted to be sure I had SOMETHING to occupy myself with, it had always been their goal, to anchor me.

“Uncles?” He was staring at me and I wondered if JJ/Jen had told him about my uncle Davey. “Your mom’s side or dad’s?” I shook my head and took another drink of juice.

“Uncle Davey is Mom’s brother, Uncle George is his husband,” to give Clay credit, he didn’t show any signs of surprise or even flinch. Some men did, not locals since Davey and George were well known in our small spec of a town, but guys I’d dated in the past tended not to last if I saw signs of discomfort. 

“And they raised you?” I was scooping out the first batter onto prepared pans, nodding as the second batter took its turn in the mixer. “Your mom?” 

“Died.” Simple and true, but not the whole story. “I was eleven.” I had a flash of the call she made, as I sat with George here in the kitchen and watched him bake. She was making sure I was here, that I was with my uncles before she- I swallowed the memory, as I always did. 

“And your dad-” the very thought of my dad made me snort and shot down the pain of my mom. 

“Daddy dearest?” I looked up as I started another batch of batter. “He was very busy with Amber, or is her name Ashley? The younger, trashier model, that works,” I rolled my eyes. “He didn’t seem interested in me, or kids in general really.” As far as I knew, and with the town being so small, I knew everything whether I wanted to or not, he hadn’t spawned any more kids. I shrugged again. “He didn’t put up a fight.”

Clay was drinking his own juice, staring at me while seemingly lost in thought. I kept going with the baking, the scent of vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon filling the air. “You said your dad was wealthy and connected-” I nodded, waiting. “And he’s a councilman?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t always rich and elite,” in fact, were it not for falling in with my mom and HER family, he’d still be on the wrong side of the tracks, no newer model for him. “My mom’s family was the one with the better name.” And money, lots and lots of money, I thought. Shaking my head at how my uncles had made sure that every single penny of my trust fund stayed firmly away from my father’s grasping fingers. “Marrying her got him what he really wanted.”

“Power.” Clay offered, finishing his juice as I put the last pan of pastries in the oven. As I closed the oven door, I felt the heat of him pressed against my back. “How long are they going to bake?” His hands were sliding under my apron, pulling my button down shirt from my pants, and I found myself pressing back against his chest. 

“Twenty minutes,” I whispered, as his lips met the crook of my neck and my eyes fluttered closed. 

“That gives me enough time to have breakfast.” And then he turned me and our lips met again.

Clay left after I had the bakery cases filled and the dishes washed from my baking. He kept me company until about thirty minutes before the shop would open, and about twenty minutes before Keli would come in. He kissed me in front of the door, giving me a look that I felt more than I could describe. Clearly wanting to stay, but needing to go, I finally shook my head and pushed him out the door. 

“Go,” smirking, but also fighting myself from yanking him back inside and calling today a loss. “Before neither of us get anything done today.” His smile was breathtaking, and he turned away, but not before promising me that he’d see me later.

Keli looked at me as though I hadn’t buttoned my shirt right after the breakfast that Clay and I had that morning, and I had to struggle against checking myself. “What?” I asked, flipping the sign over early. 

“You look-” she was squinting at my face, and I felt a blush hit me. “Laid.” My eyebrows rose, and she grinned, a new expression on her face. “Char got laid,” she nodded, her grin holding as she tucked her messenger bag in the kitchen. While her back was turned, I double checked my buttons, zipper, and my hair. How the fuck did she- “You have a tiny-” she touched a bare spot lower than my neck and grinned wider. “He bit you.” Shit. Fuck. My eyes closed tight. “So was it Mr. Coffee Black Double Shot or Cappuccino Extra Cinnamon Are You Sure You Don’t Do The Art On Top?” I opened my eyes to see her leaning against the counter behind the register waiting. 

I groaned and she laughed. Damn it, who knew that Keli’s mood could improve by me suddenly having a sex life? “Double Shot,” I answered, shocking myself. “Don’t fucking-”

“Tell anyone?” She shook her head with an eye roll thrown in for good measure. “Like I would. Aren’t you worried about Latte Soy Milk No Foam?” I shook my head and gave her an eye roll in return.

“Asha. Keli, they have actual names.” I groaned, realizing that I wasn’t sure they were their REAL names, and that I’d used her ‘nickname’ for Clay to confirm her suspicions. Fuck. 

She shrugged and moved to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Who cares? This town is a fucking whirlpool of people who no one should give two flying fucks about, why bother learning THEIR names when no one learns ours?” I was listening to her as she spoke and I realized she was right. Aside from the ‘elite’, no one cared about the townies that didn’t ‘matter’. “Me and Stacy can’t fucking wait to move away.” 

“You’re planning on leaving?” This was news to me, and a flash of dawning horror made me notice that I was guilty of it too. That I was exactly the type of person who didn’t engage, not really. Fuck. 

Keli shrugged again, taking a careful sip of her coffee. “Eventually. We want Jason to be raised somewhere a little more welcoming.” I smiled, thinking that her little family was thinking ahead, something few people seemed to do anymore. “We’re saving up, it won’t be for awhile yet, so don’t worry about hiring a new opening person.” Fuck, she thought I only cared because of the inconvenience to me. 

I waved that idea off. “Where are you guys looking at?” And for the next few minutes, and during quiet parts of the rest of the day, I learned more about Keli than I’d known in the two years she’d worked at The Little Drip. And I knew that her contempt wasn’t just because she was working customer service, but because she saw a side of the town I’d grew up in from a different point of view.


	12. The Day Can Start on a High Note, and Still End on a High Note?

Note to self: Just because the day begins with mind expanding sex, followed by another helping, and then you have a real chat with your most ill-suited for customer service employee does not mean that the rest of the day stays high and happy.

This was proven as soon as I went to my office after I was sure that Keli had the crowd under control so I could work on the books and deal with paperwork that seemed to multiply when my back was turned. I was up to my elbows in accounting work when the knock sounded on the door. Too loud to be Clay, I figured that Keli might need more change and called out for her to enter. I started to tell her that the safe was open and she could get what she needed, but the voice that spoke wasn’t Keli’s, or Clay’s.

“Hello, Charlotte.” I stared at a man I hadn’t been face to face with since I was five years old. My father, Walter Ramble stood in front of me wearing a well made suit and looking very proud of himself. Fucker.

I just studied him. If he was looking for happiness or welcome, he’d come to the wrong fucking place. I didn’t offer him a chair. I didn’t ask if he wanted something to drink. I said nothing.

“Is this how it has to be?” I raised an eyebrow, but continued my silence. “Fine. I came because the police came to see me.” Relaxing into my desk chair, I tried to look like I cared. Sadly it was hard work and I wasn’t sure it worked. “They think you know who might have committed arson on the building across the street.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t seen you since I was five, well not this close, I mean.” To be fair, I’d seen him almost every day before my mom- He lived on the same fucking street as we had. “And THIS is what brings you to the shop? Because the inept police in our quiet little hub can’t fucking take the truth when I give it to them?” I sighed. “Get out.” He stared down at me, and I could almost feel his anger rolling off him in waves. Whether I’d pissed him off with my lack of welcome, or because I wasn’t fixing his discomfort at having the police pay him a visit didn't matter. I’d pissed him off. Good.

“Charlotte,” he hissed my name out in exasperation and I stared at him with all the contempt I’d ever felt for him, which was a fucking stockpiles worth.

“Walter,” I snapped back. “I know you aren’t as educated as Mom was. I know you’re not as educated as Davey or George, or fucking me, but I imagine that even the gutter where you crawled out from isn’t completely unknowing of the phrase ‘get out’.” I picked up the next stack of papers to get started, clearly dismissing him. When I didn’t hear the door open and close, I glared up at him. “Get the fuck out of my office, Walter, now.”

“You blame me, Charlotte and that isn’t fair.” I snorted, oh my god.

I stood up, leaning on my hands so I could get closer to his smug face, but still keeping the desk between us for his safety and my freedom. “Of course I blame you, Walt. You left us. You left us and moved barely half a block down the fucking street from our fucking house. Do you know how she felt seeing you drive up and down the fucking street, with that fucking whore beside you?” I could see my mom, trying hard to stay away from the front windows, praying she wouldn’t see the flash of his car. “Every day, Walter, every single fucking day from the moment you walked out until the day she fucking ate a bullet, she was tortured by you. By how well you played her, the con of pretending that you fucking cared or loved her. You used her to get to the top, or close enough to the top to make a guttersnipe like you feel fucking special. And she’s dead, you’re here, and I fucking hate you. Leave. Get out. And if you want to stay in your comfy little world, never darken the fucking door again.”

He was chewing words, but said nothing. Turning away, he opened the door and nearly walked face first into Clay. Shit. Clay sized him up and dismissed him, harder and faster than I’d ever seen anyone else do the same. I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing. I watched as Clay took the tiniest of side steps, forcing my father to bump into him and I was happy to see that Clay’s body held strong, but daddy dearest stumbled.

I shook my head and sat back down, thinking the day couldn’t get worse, but when Clay walked in his face didn’t lose the tension that showed when he came face to face with Walter. Well, fuck.

Asha was back. He looked so stressed that I had a moment of fear that I’d become the other woman, that I was literally what I’d called Walt’s second wife. Shit. But then, Clay must have seen the look on my face because he was kneeling beside my chair, cupping my face and assuring me that wasn’t a concern I should have.

“I’m more upset because I have to go off to fucking who knows where again.” His thumb brushed my lips and I couldn’t have broken our gaze if I tried. “I will be back, Char, I fucking swear it.” And then his lips replaced his thumb and I forgot about my father, Asha, and anything that wasn’t right in front of me.

“You’re leaving?” I breathed, when he gave me a second to catch my breath. He nodded and started to dip back in, but I stopped him. “Shouldn’t I give you a farewell present?”

I tugged him to his feet, and patted a bare spot on my desk, watching him smile wide and those dimples I fucking liked to see deepened. He sat, hands reaching for me, but I shook my head. My fingers went to his pants and I unbuttoned him, unzipped him, and then reached in and pulled him free. Again his hands tried to grab me, but I stopped him as I leaned forward and licked against the soft skin of his most sensitive spot. I smiled as his hands finally found something to touch, his fingers sliding under the hair tie holding up my topknot, and I heard him gasp as I gave him something to remember me by.

He was breathing heavy by the time I got my own reward, and I took the time to clean him thoroughly before tucking him away and refastening his pants. When I finished, he surprised me by pulling me to him and kissing me. “Now I really don’t want to fucking leave.” I pulled away with a huge grin. “You’re something else, Char.”

I walked him to the office door and kissed him goodbye. “Thanks for lunch, Clay,” his smile made my heart beat faster, but the laugh when I thanked him I could almost feel to my toes. “See you soon?”

“As fucking soon as I can get back, Char.” I watched until he was out of sight, hoping against hope that I wasn’t as naïve as my mom had been.


	13. When It Rains, It Fucking Pours

I finished my paperwork about an hour after I’d given Clay his farewell gift, and I wasn’t surprised to see none of the fantastic fiery five were in the cafe when I left my office. Checking in with Keli, who was about to leave for the day, making sure that Erin had everything under control and that the pastry case was being kept looking aesthetically pleasing, I was about to take the extra cash to the back to prepare the daily deposit when a voice broke into my concentration.

“Little Charlotte Ramble, is that you?” Looking up, I felt the urge to scream. Seriously? Standing in front of the register, looking far too put together to make me feel comfortable, was one of Walter’s closest friends. Shit.

I managed to swallow a sigh that was building up as long suffering, and plastered my generic customer service smile on my face. “Alex Xavier,” I took a glance around him trying to see if his twin Matthew was hiding nearby. Where there was one, usually there were two. “When did you get back in town?” Honest to God, was this the year from Hell? 

He smiled, and I knew that there were some idiotic women who found his type strangely irresistible. Weird, because to me he looked like he put more effort into his image than I had the fucking patience to do for myself. And his brother was the same way, identical down to their toe nail length I’d bet. 

“I wanted to come see how the investigation into the arson of my building was coming along.” His building? FUCK. “I’ve learned that you weren’t home that evening, strange, since rumor has it you aren’t exactly the social butterfly, Charlotte.” Don’t roll your eyes, I told myself, don’t do it.

I really fucking hoped that my smile hadn’t slipped. “Not a lot of dating opportunities on the ground, Alex. A girl has to take the offers when they come.” Sure, Charlotte, build up the fact that you’re a dating dud. “I didn’t know you owned that building.” 

Alex’s smile had stayed put, fucker. “Well, Matt and I owned it, but now it’s a complete loss.” He fixed the black glove on his left hand, and I wanted to ask who brought the Michael Jackson look back, but kept myself in check. “Are you absolutely certain that you saw nothing, that you haven’t seen any new suspicious people?” 

“I am positive I didn’t see anything.” I didn’t break eye contact, I didn’t flinch or fidget. “As for a complete loss, surely you had insurance.” Not mentioning new people at all. 

“Insurance that is held up by an arson investigation,” aside from the adjustment to his glove he didn’t show any distress, and the glove was no doubt simply out of its perfect placement. “Charlotte, I’m sure you know how it is, since Davey and George have you keeping this place up and running.” 

“I hadn’t even considered that,” non-committal, not budging. “I really wish I had a way to help you out, but I’m positive you wouldn’t want me to LIE to the police so the insurance pays out.” 

“Of course not.” He scoffed. “I think that you may know more than you think, after all, this is THE spot for coffee and I’ve heard great things about the pastries.”

I raised an eyebrow and wondered who was buttering up my image. “Would you care for a cup? I’ll even toss in a sweet treat of your choosing.” He said nothing, simply studied me. 

“Perhaps another time,” Alex let out a long suffering sigh, I knew it well since I had been holding back my own for weeks now. “If your memory-”

“The police will be the first to know,” I assured him, but he stopped me and handed me a plane white business card with a phone number on it. 

“I think I want to be the first to know,” without another word, he walked away.

What the literal hell?

I didn’t have any more visitors surprise me for the rest of the day. And I’d also never felt like I couldn’t wait for a day to end with so much fucking yearning. Clay and the others off to who knew where, my dad popping in like he did it every fucking day, and then Alex offering me his weird minimalist card. Seriously, I couldn’t remember a time that I was so fucking happy to say goodbye to my employees, lock the damn door, and go upstairs to take the longest hottest fucking bath that my skin could stand. 

What’s that saying? There’s a calm before the storm? Well, I was pretty fucking certain that the storm had started, and I was already tired of the rain.


	14. Two Weeks Isn't THAT Long...

They were gone for two weeks. Two LONG fucking weeks. During those fourteen days, five hours, and three minutes, I’d had another two visits from my least favorite policemen, a face to face with Alex’s twin Matthew, and I could have sworn that I heard my father’s voice when I was in my office.

Matthew Xavier, an identical copy of his brother, had given me the same cryptic warning to call him first if my memory suddenly popped into clearer details. The glove he wore was white, and I had to keep my mouth quiet about the one gloved fashion statement, since technically I did know who torched the Xavier brothers’ building. He turned down a sample of our coffee and almost sniffed indignantly at the offer of a fresh pastry. Which made it very fucking hard to NOT flip him the bird as he left.

Keli had no such qualms, raising both hands with both middle fingers proudly raised, she came close to growling. I wanted to ask if she was up to date on her shots, but figured fuck it, he deserved rabies.

The visits with our town’s version of Barney Fife doubled went much the same as the prior conversations. And again, I had trouble keeping my fucking eyes locked in the front and center position. Why, I wondered, why the fuck did I have to deal with this shit? Clay, the tiny voice whispered in my head, reminding me that Clay was the reason I had to deal with it. And I still wasn’t completely sure that was his fucking real name.

I wasn’t doing the order when he returned. When they returned, I mean. I was actually leaning against the counter, talking with Keli during a slow time between morning rush and afternoon caffeine refill when I heard the bell dingle on the door announcing a customer.

“He’s back,” she whispered, eyes twinkling. I shook my head and grinned at her.

“Char,” that fucking voice, I swear to God. I turned and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding the entire time he was gone. “A moment?” He tilted his head in the direction of my office. I tried not to sprint to my office, but hearing a chuckle from Keli had me doubting I was successful. I’d barely crossed the threshold when Clay’s body was pressed against mine and the door clicked shut behind him.

I turned and before I could say a word his mouth was on mine and I felt all the tension of him being gone leave me. He pulled away, looked over my shoulder at my desk, nodding to himself when it met his expectations, he lifted me onto the surface. I raised a questioning eyebrow and he smiled as he dipped his head back down.

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t get an ass crack full of scone this time,” and then his mouth met mine again and all talking stopped.

Forgetting that we were in my office during business hours and that the office door wasn’t locked, I started pulling off his jacket as his fingers found the hem of my shirt. We maneuvered so we didn’t tangle arms, and his jacket met the floor followed by my shirt. My fingers worked fast, unbuttoning his button down, while his fingers were unclasping my bra. Our pants went next, then underwear and as he finally slid inside of me, forcing our lips to part again so we could both moan quietly at the feeling, he told me how much he fucking missed me. With words and with actions.

We were both shaking by the time we finished. And the reality of where we were, and what we’d just done hit me like a fucking brick. Clay was so fucking potent that I swear to fuck I forgot everything when he was near me. What my responsibilities were, where I was stripping him, and any and all worries or questions I had about him all fluttered away.

“Did you just- Did we just-” I was still trying to catch my breath, we were still locked together, clutching at one another like we’d disappear if we didn’t.

His low laugh coursed through me and I felt another surge of want for him. “Yes, Char, we did.” His lips were on my shoulder, and he wasn’t nearly as breathless as I was. “I fucking couldn’t wait. I needed you so bad.”

Once our clothes were back on, we tried a normal conversation. He asked me what he’d missed while he was gone. He listened to me as I told him about the Xavier twins, more visits from the detectives, and my suspicion that my father had come back. I asked him if he was successful while he was away, but the pinched look on his face told me all I needed to know.

“The Xaviers?” I nodded. “What do they look like?”


	15. The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing But The Truth...

I didn’t question why Clay wanted to know what the Xavier twins looked like. I assumed he wanted to know what they looked like since he had torched their building and knowing how to pick them out of a crowd would help keep him and the others from jail time. 

“Dark curly hair, kind of metrosexual in that way that some men get mani/pedis and are more picky than women, linen suits, one wears a black glove, the other a white one?” I was trying to recall what I might be missing. “I’ve heard that some people find them attractive.” I shrugged, not much help, but I could point them out if they were nearby. 

“Some people?” He raised his eyebrow at me. “Not you?”

I scrunched up my nose at the thought of it. “I prefer more,” I moved closer to where he was sitting in the visitor’s chair, as I got within touching distance, he pulled me onto his lap. “Ruggedly handsome men who don’t mind getting a little dirty.” His hands were sliding up my back and I smiled as I leaned in to kiss him. Our lips, then tongues met and I sighed into the feeling. I pulled back enough to speak. “Men whose voices sound bedroom deep at any time during the day,” another kiss. Another slight break. “Men who have dark hair, stubble, and-” He practically growled when he took over for the kiss I was withholding from him. My fingers were tightly clenching the lapels of his jacket and I fought against ripping it from him again. His mouth left mine and began kissing down my neck. “Clay?” I breathed and he hummed against my skin. “We can’t.” Another growl, this time with a groan added in for good measure. “Not right now.” I felt the tease of his teeth on my neck and swallowed hard against the burning lust that was rushing through me. “Later, I swear.” 

Clay kissed and sucked, he even nibbled a little, trying to wear down my resistance, but I knew that I couldn’t neglect my work forever. Even if he made the idea very fucking tempting. “Fine,” he grumbled, pulling away so I could see his face. “If you INSIST on waiting,” his eyes moved from mine to my lips. “Just one more-” the kiss he took this time was slow and soft. Tasting me, savoring me and I knew if he kept going I’d give in. I told myself that I was thankful he stopped. That work called to me, and I was sure he needed to consult his group. Like a flash I remembered something that got overwhelmed every time we touched.

“Clay?” His eyes were locked with mine again. “What’s your real name?”

Clay left my office promising that we’d talk about who he really was later that evening. I believed him, because I could see the war waged in his eyes that my question had brought on. Another lingering kiss at the door, and then he left with a longing look and a sigh. 

Sitting at my desk, thinking that I could go through bills and other menial tasks before the end of the day, I wondered why Clay and the others were using aliases. 

When I was ready to lock up for the day, I tried very hard not to show how upset I was that Clay wasn’t in the cafe. Forcing a smile on my face as I said goodnight to Erin and Rachel, I told them I’d see them the next day and turned the lock. I turned off the lights downstairs and went through the door leading to my apartment and trudged upstairs. I was thinking that Clay might have ran off because I’d asked for his real name, and I wondered why I wasn’t resigned to the fact that he may have scuttled off wanting to keep his real identity secret and feeling that my questions were too inconvenient to handle.

I’d tugged off my shirt and was working on my pants when the familiar quiet knock that he used on my office door was given at my apartment door. Forcing myself to walk carefully to the door, without rushing, I looked through the small window to make sure it was him before opening it. 

“You always answer the door without your shirt on, Char?” His smile had me shaking my head. “I had to run some things by my group, that's why I came by the outside entrance.” Must have known I’d wondered. 

“I always throw off my work clothes when I get home,” I offered, as his arms wrapped around my bare skin. “And I peeked to see who knocked before I opened the door.” His lips met mine and I was highly tempted to finish undressing and forget about his promise, but shook it off. When he pulled back to stare down at me, I told him so. “I think you made me a promise.” He sighed, and I knew a part of him wanted to put it off. I also knew that he could make me forget how to do simple things like count, so I wasn’t going to give in this time. 

“Could you at least put on a shirt before I start?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re too fucking tempting in just the lace covering you.” I grinned, really? 

He was licking his lips and I realized that if he was tempted by me shirtless, then he would be pulling out the stops to divert me from my goal. Sighing I told him to take a seat and I walked into my bedroom to grab a t-shirt. Once it was on, I shucked off my pants and replaced them with a pair of sleep shorts. Far more comfortable, I pulled my hair free from the knot I kept it up in during work and slid my fingers through the mass to release the pressure on the top of my head. I came out to find him on the sofa, and took a moment to appreciate how relaxed he looked. And strangely he looked like he belonged in my apartment. 

“Should I sit in the chair?” I asked, as his eyes took the full tour of my body, from toes to loose hair. “I’d hate to keep you from keeping your promise.” 

He shook his head and patted the sofa next to him. “I think I can manage to stay on topic for awhile with you next to me.” 

I sat next to him, and he still deemed me too far away. Pulling me so I was curled close to him, his arm around my shoulder, the fingers of his other hand linking with mine he took a breath and began telling me just who he was.   
It was a lot to take in, and I’d be lying if I said that my head wasn’t spinning when he finished. I was working through it, all of it as he held me. 

“I’ll understand if you don’t-” he stopped, and I felt his tension in the way his body stilled at whatever he was thinking. “I know that what I’ve said isn’t easy to digest.” 

“Do you think that this Max person is here?” I looked up at him and waited. When he nodded, I took a moment. “You know, Matthew and Alexander Xavier sound identical as well as look the same.” His eyes were on mine as I went on. “‘MAX’ could be an acronym. M from Matthew, A from Alex, and X from Xavier.” He nodded again, clearly having figured that out from what I’d told him in my office. “Is that why you set fire to their building?” 

His sigh made his breath fan across my face. “We didn’t plan on the building burning down. He wasn’t there when we went in, our lookouts were here, and they nearly missed the arsonist. The person who died, actually.” I must have looked confused because he kept going. “We had intel that Max owned the building and might be using it as his base of operations. We’d done surveillance on it, but wanted to go in when we thought no one was inside. It was nearly a fucking death trap, but the asshole who set the fire, well it didn’t end as well for him as it did for us.” 

“If I’d known you thought the Xaviers were operating out of the building, I could have told you they weren’t.” He looked surprised. “I may not have known they owned the building, but I do know that they barely come back to their hometown. I can’t tell you the last time I’d seen the two of them before the building burned.” 

He looked thoughtful as his tension started to relax. Since I hadn’t kicked him out, I think he knew he was safe with me, for now. “I hate to ask you, but-”

“Don’t tell anyone that you’re supposed to be dead?” A smirk played on my lips. “So I shouldn’t shout out ‘take me harder, Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay!’? I mean it is a mouthful-” and then, he made sure my mouth was very full as I choked back a laugh.


	16. Sir, Yes, Sir

Clay wanted to take me out to dinner, but I knew that the twins, or at least one of them was sniffing around town, so I convinced him that we should order in. And by ‘convinced’ I said we should and his eyes went dark, he licked his lips, and I knew I won. 

We had Enzo’s. And I saw that they’d gone wild with the garlic bread. I was laughing when I opened the warmer bag that held it and Clay shot me a weird look. “Sorry, this is the restaurant that Jensen took me to.” He waited and I rolled my eyes. “The owner’s daughter probably thinks he’s the one who I’m sharing with, since this is her way of flirting.” 

“With bread?” He took a bite and his eyes closed around the flavor. “Shit, yeah, this is flirting.” I laughed, and his eyes met mine. “What?” 

“If Jensen needs a date, Carrie’s more than willing, trust me.” She knew me, knew that I wouldn’t even want this much bread as leftovers. This was clearly a ‘remember me’ flirtation. “I mean, he’s still growing, right? So extra bread would help.” He shook his head. “Jensen needs laid, he is throwing off enough pheromones that I’m shocked animal control hasn’t been called.” 

“As long as you’re not taking care of his needs, I’ll pass his chances with the bread girl on to him.” Dinner was good. Enzo’s food was ALWAYS good. Clay groaned, his entire serving gone, and a good dent was made in the garlic bread too. Leaning back into the sofa, he smiled at me. “I think I’m going to be fucking useless for dessert, Char, that food’s made me a sloth.” 

My mouth dropped open in mock shock. Putting the lid on the leftovers from my own meal and making sure the rest of the bread was secured in its bag, I put them away and tossed the trash from Clay’s. “No dessert?” I asked, dropping back onto the sofa beside him, forcing a pout onto my lips I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. He shook his head and pulled me closer. “But I really REALLY like dessert, sir.” 

Chuckling he kissed my forehead. “I think you have a sweet tooth, Charlotte.” I nodded, and could feel his lips curl into a smile against my skin. Sighing dramatically, he tilted my head up so he could look into my eyes. “It has been HOURS since we were in your office-”

And then I was over his shoulder and he was stalking to the bedroom. “Can I call you by your rank, sir?” That earned me a tiny swat on my behind and I grinned as I bounced. “That wasn’t a yes or no, sir.” 

Lowering me to my bed, Clay’s eyes were twinkling as he looked down at me. “Char, you can call me anything you want to call me, if you can form words after I’m through with you that is.” I was reaching for him as he moved over me and I wanted to test that promise for all I was worth.

We were wrapped together in my bed, darkness acting as another blanket, and I was grinning so wide that I was shocked the hint of light from the street lights wasn't bouncing off my teeth like a lighthouse beacon. Clay’s arms were around me, his fingers tracing my skin as we both wound down for sleep. Sighing into his touch, even as I snuggled into his chest, I felt content. 

“Goodnight, Charlotte,” his voice was raspy, because while he managed to help short circuit my brain, he’d become more vocal to make up for it. “I can’t wait for breakfast.” 

Kissing his chest with a giggle, “sweet dreams,” I whispered. Breakfast and dessert, I thought, as sleep pulled me under, were my favorite meals when Clay was around. 

Morning came, and with it another shower and company while I baked. After breakfast, bent over the stool that he’d sat on while watching me create the pastries that would line the display case in the cafe, I kissed him goodbye and he left with a promise of more. More dinners, more dessert, more.


	17. A Number For Jensen and Another Unwelcome Visit

Jensen came in with his laptop and a tad bit more confidence than usual. Keli looked like she was itching to help him lose it, so I stepped in front of her to act as interference. 

“Hey,” I offered with a bright smile. “From the look on your face, I think you heard about the bread delivery from Carrie.” His smile matched mine and Keli hip checked me to hand Jensen his coffee. 

“Yeah,” he moved out of the way, since another regular had stepped up behind him and Keli was looking impatient. I walked with him to his ‘usual table’. “Clay mentioned something about take-out.” 

I had a slip of paper with Carrie’s cell number on it, which I’d called to make sure I could give to him. I could have sworn that I heard her eyes roll when I asked, and she basically threatened my fucking life if I didn’t pass it along. Apparently she’d written it on the bread bag, but I missed it. 

“Here,” I handed it to him and watched as his eyes widened. “Carrie would murder me if I don’t pass that along. She’ll also maim me if you don’t use it.” I warned, but my smile lessened the effect. “She’s known me forever, she knew that you and I weren’t-”

“Clay would have killed ME,” he replied, tucking the paper into his pocket. I raised an eyebrow, since Clay and I had barely spoken before Jensen and I went out to dinner. “We’ve been travelling together for long enough I could tell.” I bit my lip. “Trust me, Charlotte, Clay is-” he stopped talking and buried his head in his laptop. “Can you stay there, unless you think the twins would come speak to you, then could you-” 

I hadn’t heard the bell warning that anyone new had come in, but I knew that they must be close. “I hope you enjoy your coffee,” I said, and in a breath and told him to add his hoodie to his ball cap and maybe lose his glasses.

I’d turned away, and was speaking to a few of the other regulars who were sprinkled among the tables, taking note that Jensen’s table was tucked away with plenty of cover. Good. The bell dingled and I turned to offer my usual greeting, wanting to smack the Xavier twin who entered with my father. 

Black glove, that was Alex. “Welcome to the Little Drip,” I managed through sheer force of will to not sound like I was contemplating throwing bags of beans at their fucking heads. “Alex.” I tilted my head and ignored the sperm donor who provided part of my genetic make-up. “Did you decide to take me up on my offer of a cup of coffee and a pastry?”

Alex’s smile was slimy and reptilian, which was strange since I was fairly certain no one else saw it. “Actually, Walter and I were coming by to see how the removal of the rubble that constitutes my former property was going.” I waited, since I had no fucking dog in that particular fight, or at least I was pretending I didn’t. “It’s almost cleared.”

“Not sure what the proper salutation is for that,” giving a look that I hoped mimicked me trying to find it, I sighed. “Congratulations?” 

“I think you could do better than that,” Walter offered, and I continued to ignore him. “Charlotte.” Silence. “You’re being childish.” 

“Mr. Xavier,” I offered, smiling in what I hoped was a loaded look of contempt for the both of them. “I am incredibly sorry for you loss. A building of that distinction,” read ugly, “and whatever was inside of it,” seriously, what the fuck did you have there, “the loss of such a magnitude must be devastating. For that, you have my sympathies. Since you are not interested in a beverage or a pastry, I don’t quite know what else I could possibly offer at this point, so if you don’t mind-” 

“Franklin Clay,” Walter muttered, and I didn’t flinch. “That’s who I saw outside your office, isn’t it, Charlotte?” 

“Who?” I asked, glancing at my father. “You saw a customer who had a question, Walter, I’m fairly certain I don’t know what his name was, but if you insist-”

“So he wasn’t going into your apartment last night?” Fuck me running with a rusty fucking pitchfork. “And then leaving through that door-” he pointed at the entrance of the shop, “this morning?” Damn it all to fucking hell.

“People who come and go from MY business is really none of YOURS,” I was looking at Alex, since he seemed to have all the intel on the comings and goings. “Whomever this Franklin Clay person is, I’m not sure why it matters.” 

“He’s a,” I could see a vein emerge in Alex’s head and started praying of an aneurysm. “He’s cost me a great deal of problems, Charlotte.” 

“Then again, I’ll offer you my thoughts and prayers,” I turned my back to the two of them, giving a parting shot as I went. “I have a feeling you’ll be needing them.”

They left, not buying anything, not speaking to me again and I felt like I might have actually fucking managed to NOT blow anything. Keli made me have doubts when she handed me a bottle of my favorite juice and told me I should take a break and do some paperwork. Confused, but thinking that I probably had gone pale, I took her advice.

When I got inside my office, I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin. Clay was perched on my desk, and he smiled while I got my heartbeat and pulse under control. 

“Fuck,” I breathed, leaning against the closed door. “I have so many fucking questions that I don’t know where to start.” 

“So one half of MAX made me,” he offered, making my eyebrows raise. “Jensen has an earbud. I don’t let my men out without the ability to keep in touch. Especially,” he stood and closed the distance between us to pull me into his arms. “When it puts you in the middle.” His breath was fanning my topknot. “I should keep my distance, MAX is-”

“Dangerous?” I tilted my head back to look up at him. “I never liked the twins, and it has nothing to do with them being my biological sperm donor’s best friends. There’s something not quite-” I stopped and shook my head. “Alex came in to let me know that he knew, and because he knows about you and me, he knew I’d find a way to tell you.” I could tell that Clay had gotten there already. “You’re all in danger.” I didn’t want to even think about what kind of danger, not after what he’d told me about their past. “Do you honestly think I’d be safer if you weren’t with me?” 

“No,” he sighed, and touched my cheek. “No, I don’t think you’d be safer. They’d use you as bait.” I could tell that he thought that was a best case scenario and I felt a tug of fear. “I’ll have to regroup with the others.” Another sigh, this time shared. “I’ll see you later, Char.” He pulled back reluctantly, and then reconsidered and kissed me breathless. “You’ll be fine.” I couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince me or himself.


	18. Jensen, Security, Likeability

One good thing about living above the shop is that technically I never have to LEAVE my work and home. Sure grocery shopping had to happen eventually, but if I didn’t mind, I could make due with pastries and take out. I might admit to being a tad more jumpy than usual, after locking up after Todd and Rachel, after turning off the lights, and walking upstairs to my apartment. What person, logically, wouldn’t be after hearing from Clay that MAX could consider using them as bait? 

When the soft knock, almost as known to me as his voice now, came to my outer door I started to open it, but Clay admonished me from the other side, holding the door shut. “Look out the window, Char.” I complied, letting him see me roll my eyes at him through the glass. He was shaking his head when he opened the door. “Do you think that if MAX is watching the apartment, they aren’t learning my routines?” I sighed and let him pull me into his arms. “Is it worth it?”

I tilted my head back to look up at him in confusion. “Is what worth it?” 

“Me.” He offered, looking down at me with tight eyes. “Charlotte, am I worth the fear and the danger?” My heart was pounding at the thought of him NOT being near me.

Eyes wide, I stared up at him as I tried to make sense of the question, and prayed that my heart would slow down. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m-”

“Oh shit,” his arms tightened around me, cradling my head to his chest. “No, Char, that’s not what I was-” He groaned and kissed my head. “Fuck. You’re worth it, you are, I just don’t want to put all this bullshit on your shoulders.”

I sighed into his chest. “You’re worth it too, Clay.” My voice was muffled, but his arms tightened letting me know he heard me. “I just don’t know what to expect.”

We talked, really talked that evening. Clay wanted to know if the shop, or my apartment had any type of security system he hadn’t noticed. When I told him they didn’t, he said that would be rectified by morning. He pulled out his phone and told Jensen what was needed, smiling when he assured him that he could take care of it after his date. 

“So he did manage to call Carrie?” I asked, once Clay signed off and told Jensen to come upstairs to be let into the shop from my apartment. His eyes met mine with a twinkle and his smile made my heart beat faster for an entirely different reason. “Good, Carrie’s a good-” but then his lips touched mine and I stopped talking. 

“Jensen’s busy for a few hours,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding down my arms to land on my hips. “So the security system is on hold. I have Cougar perched nearby watching to be sure that we’re safe for now.” Cougar, I thought, trying to force my mind away from how his long fingers were wrapping around my hips, was ‘Charles’. “That means-” He pulled and I was straddling him. “We have time to-” It was my turn to cut him off, my mouth licking into his. 

We didn’t make it to my bed, the need for one another was too great. Our clothes were tossed around the room, and as we lay pressed together on my couch, skin on skin, I felt much calmer than I had when I first got upstairs. Sex, I guessed, looking down at Clay and correcting my thought to sex WITH Clay could relax me better than a hot bath. 

The knock came and I glanced up with shock at how dark it had grown. Damn it, I really had relaxed. “Let me,” he shifted me so I was laying on the sofa, pulling the throw blanket over my naked body with a smile, he looked around trying to find his underwear.

“By the stove,” I offered, thinking I’d tossed them in that general direction. “Or maybe-”

“The top of the fridge?” He laughed, and I heard him pulling them on. “The living room looks like a tornado of clothes, Char.” He was walking toward the door, and I listened as he said something quietly, and the sound of the curtain being moved. “Hey.” The door opened and I heard Jensen’s voice, along with Carrie’s. “You must be Carrie.” 

I sat up, careful of the blanket, and grinned over the back of the sofa. “Hey!” I waved and my smile grew at the blush that was burning Jensen’s face. “I wasn’t expecting multiple visitors.” A shrug, and the blanket started to slip. “Shit.” 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Carrie’s eyes were shining, and her lips were quirking with barely held back laughter. “We’ll just-”

“Yeah,” Jensen snapped out of the utter embarrassment he seemed to be hit with seeing me barely covered on the sofa with his boss in his underwear answering the door for him. “We’ll head down and start in the shop.” He nearly ran into the door that led downstairs, but Carrie’s hand on the knob helped him avoid disaster. “We’ll knock when we’re-” Carrie pulled him through the door with a giggle and I shot a look at Clay.

“That boy,” he shook his head with a laugh, carefully locking the door leading to the outside and coming back to the couch. “I swear, I’d think he was a fucking virgin, but Cougar swears that he isn’t.” 

“I think Carrie will make sure he isn’t, after tonight, I mean.” Clay’s eyes met mine and I felt my stomach flip. “Want to make sure I’m not?” 

He pressed me back onto the sofa and I laughed into his mouth as he reminded me that he knew for certain that I crossed that bridge some time ago. 

When Jensen and Carrie came back upstairs after HOURS downstairs, I nearly burst out laughing. Jensen’s jeans weren’t fully zipped, he had a smudge of Carrie’s lipstick peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and I was pretty sure that his glasses were still slightly foggy. Biting my lip, wearing my pajamas after a few more virginity checks by Clay, I offered Carrie and him something to drink.

Carrie and I moved to the kitchen area, while Clay conferred with Jensen and gave him a gentle nudge to zip his damn pants up. “So?” I asked Carrie, our backs to the two hot fucking men working on securing my apartment. 

“He’s,” she bit her lip. “Damn.” It came out a whisper and a sigh. My smile grew. “I mean, DAMN.” I chuckled and felt the heat of Clay, wearing his pants but no shirt, against my back. 

“What’s so funny?” His voice, always so damn deep, vibrated through me down to my toes. 

“Not a DAMN thing,” I offered, forcing a giggle out of Carrie. “Girl talk, you know, like guy talk without the cock?” 

That made Clay laugh, and I leaned back into his embrace as Carrie took Jensen a glass and stood with him while he worked. “She likes him,” he sounded surprised and I glanced up at him. 

“Have you actually seen Jensen through the eyes of a woman?” He raised an eyebrow, so I went on. “First of all, there’s his body. I mean, hello buffman.” I could tell that Clay had started looking at Jensen as I spoke. “Then that smile?” Which Carrie coaxed easily out of him as he worked and they chatted. “If you can get him to smile, past all the fucking awkward dork, he’s dangerous to women’s brain function.” I studied my friend and Jensen. “He’s sweet, and silly.” Clay’s arms were tightening around me as I spoke. “So yeah, Jensen is likeable, Clay.” 

“And me?” It was quiet, but I heard and felt it. “Am I likeable?” 

I turned in his arms to face him and look up at his face. “Oh, Franklin Clay, you are far more than fucking likeable.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss me. “And once my security system is up and running, I just might show you how much more.”


	19. Do I Know How To Ruin A Good Time Or What?

Once the security system was up and raring to go, Jensen showed me how to arm it, and I felt my eyebrows rise when he told me the code. “That’s my mom’s-” he gave me a shy smile and I shook my head. “Freaking hackers,” I muttered, and his grin grew to its full blown glory and I thought that Carrie was super screwed. Not that she minded, since I caught her winking at him. Jesus. 

“Just hit the code to arm it, the reverse to disarm, AND if for some reason you need help immediately-” I was waiting for him to tell me to hit all zeroes or something, but he handed me a gun. “Shoot it.” It? The gun, something I was completely uncomfortable with in the abstract, felt completely fucking wrong in my hand. 

“It?” I swallowed, thinking I’d rather just chuck the fucking thing in the garbage and hope for the best. “What’s the ‘it’ in this particular scenario?” I couldn’t look up from the weapon in my hand, similar to the one I imagined my mom had killed herself with, not that Jensen would know that, but then again, he knew her birthday. 

“Whatever is coming at you, Char,” Clay offered, close at my side, the heat of him not calming my ass one tiny iota. “I know you don’t-”

“Do you?” I looked up and saw that his eyes were pinched. “Do you know?” Swallowing past the urge to throw up, I carefully sat the gun on the counter near me. “Thank you for the security system,” I offered this to Jensen, and saw that Carrie was helping him gather his things, nodding at me to let me know she’d get him out of the apartment as quickly as she could. She knew, she understood better than either man ever could. I took a deep breath and moved away from the gun, the counter, and Clay. 

“Char,” he followed me, of course he did, and I closed my eyes to keep from screaming. “Your mom’s choice, what she did to-”

I snorted, not that it was funny, but the idea that she felt she had a CHOICE. That was darkly hilarious to me. “Her choice? She didn’t choose it, Clay.” I turned and was happy to see that he was giving me space, and that Jensen and Carrie had left. The red light was on the security system so it was armed. That was good too. “He destroyed her and left me behind to watch her deteriorate.” 

Not many people knew, my mom had been raised in a world that showed her precisely how to hide it from the world, how she was ruined. How her world imploded, and how she struggled? Those weren’t fit for everyone in town to be privy to, but me? I lived with her. Carrie’s mom had been my mom’s best friend, and she was safe to witness it too. Uncle Davy, George, they saw it, but I watched it bloom the brightest, or darkest actually.

“He never loved her,” my voice was hushed, as though I had to keep the secret, as if my mom would come rushing in to admonish me for sharing her shame. “He gleefully told her, during dinner, on the night he walked out.” I felt like I was five years old again, listening as he sneered at how weak and useless she was, how she was a means to an end, and if she hadn’t been so desperate to keep him, I wouldn’t even exist. That I was just as useless and unwanted as she was to him. “Then,to add insult to injury as they say, he moved down the street. A one way street, Clay, that he drove down every single day past our house to get to his new life.” 

“Charlotte, we don’t have to-” I shook my head and huffed out a humorless laugh at his need to keep me safe, from my own memories at that. 

“Yeah, I think we do.” I sat down, and waited for him to take his own seat. “She hid it from everyone in this damn town, as though he kept it quiet. She wanted so badly to NOT look simple or used, or god forbid stupid.” My eyes were burning, but I kept going, he had to know why that gun wouldn’t stay with me, no matter how much he insisted. “I started staying away from home as long as I could, the older I got, the more I snuck away to stay here.” He nodded and I kept going. “I left her too, Clay, alone with nothing but the same thoughts over and over. That she wasn’t wanted, that she wasn’t good enough, that she didn’t matter.” I felt the first tear fall, but didn’t brush it away. “And I didn’t want her. I wanted the mom I had before he shunted her aside. The one who played with me and took care of me. She broke apart, and I pushed her away just like he did.” My face was damp, but I barely took notice of it. “The day she did it, the day she finally made her ‘choice’, I was here. Downstairs, hiding away from her, just like every day before she put a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger to ‘free me from the stain of dealing with her’.” I used quotes, because that was part of the note she’d left behind. Not that Davy had wanted me to see or read it, but inquisitive kids are nosy as fuck and I found it. “I killed her, Clay, I had just as big of a hand in it as he did, and I don’t want that gun near me. Any gun, to be honest, because what happens if I finally get my birthright from her? I deserve it, after what I did to her.” 

Clay pulled me to him and held me while I sobbed, the first time I told anyone how I felt about my mom’s death. The truth about it, I mean. I had so much guilt, more than anyone could ever guess, even my uncles who knew me better than any person on earth, and Clay and Jensen’s attempt to keep me safe by handing me a fucking gun had unleashed it completely.

Clay held me all night, even if I didn’t sleep, even if the alarm barely registered, he held me and comforted me in the only way he could. Helping me into the shower, watching as I went through the motions of my daily routine, he didn’t push me to talk or to pretend that I hadn’t fallen completely apart the night before. Instead, he was there, pure and simple. And it was oddly comforting.

By the time we walked into the living room so I could grab my keys, I felt almost normal, and I had plenty of time to bake before opening the shop. I almost flinched when I got within touching range of the counter where I’d left the gun, but then I realized it was gone. I turned to see Clay’s mouth in a tiny smile and bit my lip. 

“You don’t want it,” he moved closer and wrapped me in his arms. “So it’s gone.” His lips brushed my forehead. “I just want you to be safe, Charlotte.” He breathed into my hair and I relaxed completely in his arms. 

“I am,” tilting my head back so I could look up at his face, I smiled. “Or,” I corrected as I saw he looked unconvinced. “I will be, once you put MAX in their place.” That brought his smile back and then his lips met mine and I REALLY wished I hadn’t chosen to go all melodramatic PTSD shitshow the night before, and this morning. Fuck, what a waste. When he pulled away, I was seriously considering sending Keli out for donuts from the local grocery store, but groaned in the knowledge I wouldn’t. “Let’s get this fucking show on the road,” and with a sigh, and a chuckle from him at my obvious irritation with myself and my routine, we walked downstairs to start another glorious day at The Little Drip.


	20. Meet The...

The security system that Jensen put in at Clay’s request was simple enough to get used to. Explaining the need for it to my employees, a little less easy. Keli was staring at me with a look of shrewdness that almost caused me to squirm, but I couldn’t tell her that Clay and the others were fucking assumed dead black ops, and that my dad and his two butthole buddies were gunning for them, could I?

Baking, creating new sweet treats, kept me mostly sane, and almost nightly visits from Clay helped too. Actually the nightly visits more than helped, but I was worried about when the other shoe would drop. Matthew and Alex Xavier along with my biological sperm donor wouldn’t just go away on their own, not with Clay and his group still working to bring them down. Even with Clay keeping my bed warm and the rave reviews I was getting from customers for the newest pastries I came up with.

Time seemed to keep slipping by, and I lost track of the date, even while keeping the inventory and ordering schedule on track. I was crouched behind the counter, checking out the supplies that we kept there, when Keli nudged me with her knee. I almost tapped her leg back, but then I heard her mutter out a greeting to Davey and George. Shit.

I nearly smacked my head on the counter as I rose to my feet, fuck shit fuck. “Hey!” I offered, sounding high pitched and slightly freaked out. Way to go, Char. “I didn’t realize it was time for you two to visit.” A call would have been nice, a postcard, a fucking email. I walked around the counter so my two uncles could embrace me between them. My two sweet, loving uncles. 

“When did you put in the security system?” Davey asked, as he pulled away and smiled down at me. “Didn’t think our little town was a hotbed of criminal activity.” 

My smile felt forced, because it definitely was. “The fire across the street, I told you about it, remember?” George tsked and pulled me back into his arms. “I’m alright, Uncle George.” 

“Has the donor been by lately?” Davey looked like he smelled and tasted something disgusting which was apt, since my father was pretty fucking gross. I shook my head, not since the last time, thank God.

I sighed. “No, but my two favorite officers have started to come in every other day.” Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum I called them in my head, which was a hell of a sight better than some of the nicknames I heard Keli mutter at them. “I completely forgot that you guys were coming,” even if you come every single fucking year around the same fucking time. “How’s Florida?” 

Davey and George had kept their house in town, so while I was expected to have dinner with them almost every night, we weren’t all squished into my apartment upstairs. Once I locked up that evening, I went upstairs to change into something more comfortable so I could drive to their house, completely forgetting my new routine. When I heard Clay’s soft knock, it hit me that I hadn’t told my uncles about the new man in my life. In fact, I hadn’t told them anything about Clay or the others. My fucking life had been in complete upheaval for months, so give me a break, would you?

“Hey,” I offered, after I killed the security system and unlocked the door. He was staring at the dress I’d pulled on, my hair down from the topknot that was part of my unofficial uniform for work. 

“We going somewhere, Char?” He and his team hadn’t been in for their daily dose of caffeine so I hadn’t been able to tell him that Davey and George were visiting, and now- Shit.

“Dinner with my uncles,” I bit my lip, wondering if I should call and tell them I was bringing a guest. “Give me a second, I want to make sure they made enough food for four.” He shook his head, but was smiling, so I knew that he probably knew I’d forgotten to tell them he was coming along.

I called and told George that I’d be adding a plus one for dinner. He chuckled and said he’d heard from Keli that there was a certain someone. After assuring me that he assumed that my guy would be coming along, and so they had more than enough, especially if the rest of my gentleman’s friends wanted to tag along. Shit, Keli was just a little sharebot wasn’t she?

“I think it will just be the two of us,” I answered, smiling as Clay’s eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Let me make sure though.” Holding my hand over the mic, I asked him if his team wanted to join us.

“Jensen has another date with Carrie,” he offered. “Pooch went home for a furlough with his wife and son. Cougar is doing what Cougar does. Just you and me, Char.” 

Confirming with George that it would just be the four of us, I told him we’d be on our way soon. Clay’s arms were around me as soon as I hit END. “This is nice,” I leaned back into his chest. 

“But,” he kissed the top of my head, “we have to go.” Ugh, the thought of not climbing Clay like a tree was repulsive to me, but he was right. “Come on, Charlotte, let’s go so I can meet your family.” 

Davey opened the door and his face broke out into a wide grin at the sight of Clay practically wrapped around me from behind. “Oh, Charlotte, this must be Clay.” I guess a part of me was happy that Keli had told them Clay’s name and not his ‘nickname’. “Come on in,” he stepped back and let us in. I shook my head as I saw my uncle look Clay over from top to bottom and then back up again. Who could blame him? “George is in the kitchen,” he offered as I walked toward the scent of my favorite meal. “Clay, come into the family room, Char is heading toward her happy place.” I was grinning over my shoulder reassuringly at Clay as I moved with purpose to the one person who understood my love of baking and cooking. 

George shook his head when I came through the swinging door of the kitchen. “You have a man with you and you’re going to come hang out with me, I thought I taught you better.” He was smiling too, and I knew that he was teasing. “I made your favorites.”

“I know, I could smell them through the front door.” Hopping onto a stool at the island, I watched as my uncle moved around his kitchen with the same confidence that I did in mine and the cafe’s. “You know, I completely forgot-”

“That we were coming?” His eyebrow arched perfectly, making me jealous of his natural aptitude. “I think your mind was on other, far more pleasant, topics.” From an arch, both eyebrows waggled, causing me to giggle. “Not to mention Daddy Dearest deciding to touch base. Fucking asshole.” 

I stole a bite of food and nodded. “Yeah, it was different.” I wanted to know what the twins and my father had brewing that would cause him to show up now. The town wasn’t huge, so the fact that we hadn’t bumped into one another at all until recently told me far more, but not nearly enough. “How long are you guys staying this time?” While my uncles came home yearly, their stay lengths varied depending on what else they were planning. A cruise shortened one trip to a week, but another year they stayed almost a month. 

“We’re playing it by ear,” his eyes met mine and I knew this was a sudden choice. One made when they learned that the cops were becoming regulars. “I want to see how harassing the police are, Char, and there are a few things Davey and I want to discuss with you.” Shit. 

Dinner, once we all gathered in the dining room, was a hell of a lot less awkward than I’d thought possible. Davey and George included Clay in the conversation, and for his part, Clay honestly seemed to enjoy himself. Dessert was one of my own recipes, one that George told me was a favorite among their circle in Florida, and while rushing away so we could be alone was tempting, we didn’t.

Sitting in the family room, surrounded by family photos, with me as a center focus, I listened as my uncles regaled Clay with stories about my younger years.

“There she was, covered head to toe in mud, glaring at Carrie’s big brother Chris like she was going to throttle him and it was all we could do to not laugh.” Davey was chuckling at the memory. “I swear, I can still see her almost steaming from her rage.”

“He called me a dog,” I muttered, “and not a female one. Just a dog.” 

“How old were you?” Clay asked, eyes twinkling and dimples deep. 

“Sixteen,” George laughed. “She was sixteen and contemplating murder because an eighteen year old was being a douche.” 

“He tossed me in a mudhole that could have fucking drowned me,” I glared, the memory coming back fresh. “And said even dogs were cute with mud on them, but not me.” 

Clay pulled me into his body, kissing my head. “Carrie’s brother sounds like a blind asshole.” 

“Didn’t he marry the Costello girl?” Davey asked, his smile widening and I giggled and nodded. “Talk about unattractive.” 

“Davey,” George admonished, but his chuckle ruined it. “That’s not very charitable.”

“Charity was marrying that girl.” Davey muttered, offering to top our drinks off, but I begged off. “That’s right, you need to get home so you can wake up early.” His eyes landed on Clay’s hand running down my arm and I shook my head. “Get at least a little rest, would you?” 

We said our goodbyes, my uncles hugging both of us and telling me that they wanted to talk to me at the cafe about something important, we left.

“Davey and George are pretty great,” Clay was holding me, our naked skin pressed together, the well earned exhaustion pressing down on both of us. “Thank you for taking me to meet them.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for coming with me.” His finger traced my lower, kiss swollen lip. “They like you.”

“Good,” he pulled me up so he could replace his finger with his lips. “I-” I heard him swallow hard. “Char, I think I-” I pulled back so I could see him a little better in the dim light that was coming through the lace curtains. He looked hesitant and unsure, not at all Clay-like. “Shit.” 

I smiled and kissed him. When I pulled away again, I shook my head. “Trying to say you love me?” I heard him gulp again. “Took you long enough,” I mumbled, nipping at his bottom lip. “I love you, Franklin Clay.” Then chuckling I broke the tension that seemed to be radiating off him. “Does that make me a necrophiliac?”


	21. Wait...What?!

Most people would assume, since my uncles own the coffee shop, when they come to town to visit, they spend the majority of their visit taking stock of their business. Not so. When Davey and George come to town, their focus is on me, and the people they miss during the year, the business comes far lower on their list of worries.

They would come in a few times, just to say hello to the employees and to see and taste any new pastries I’d come up with (so George could demand the recipe to take back home with them and wow their friends in Florida). I knew what to expect, the routine of their visits were natural, the expectation of family dinners which I loved and craved as much as they did, and the contentment that came from having my family nearby was a treat.

I had given Davey and George the security code, it was their business after all, and wasn’t too surprised that George was waiting in the kitchen for me the next morning. He and I had baked together so much before they moved to Florida, my uncle by marriage seeming to know that I needed an outlet of some sort to calm the upheaval that my home life had caused within me. When my mom died, that need amped up a thousandfold, and so did our time in the kitchen together. 

He smiled as he took in how close Clay was when we walked into the room, the ease of his hand on my waist, the naturalness of our touching obvious to anyone who witnessed it. He already had my mixing bowls and measuring cups out and I felt my own grin match his at the reality that we’d be falling into familiar family routines.

“I should go,” Clay’s voice rumbled through his body and into my back where he was pressed. 

“What the hell for?” It was George who answered. “If you’ve been watching Char bake every morning, why stop because I’m here?” I felt a laugh bubbling up at the thought of Clay’s daily serving of breakfast, but managed to hold it down. “Unless you don’t just WATCH-” George did it, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and I snorted. Dear God. 

I could feel Clay shaking his head, but heard his laughter coating his answer. “Oh, I haven’t got a single fucking clue about baking, George.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s not where your strengths lie,” I was going to crack a fucking rib from holding in my laughter. “Come on, girl, get over here and help your poor uncle bake. Your gentleman caller can fetch us refreshments when they’re needed.” 

Clay kissed my temple and dutifully sat in the stool he normally watched me bake from, and just like George had demanded, he became our gopher while we worked. 

I said goodbye to Clay at the door, once the last batch of pastries were in the oven. “I should have had breakfast in your apartment,” he murmured against my lips and I grinned into his kiss. “Now I’m gonna be a fucking bear to deal with all fucking day.” Another kiss and he left, just as Davey arrived. 

“That man is something else,” my uncle offered, smiling as I locked the door behind us. “He makes you happy.” He was studying me, taking in whatever changes he thought he saw in me. “You look happy.”

I nodded, letting him follow me to the kitchen where his husband was drinking a cup of coffee. “I am happy, mostly.” 

I caught the look the two of them shared and felt a twist in my stomach. Shit. What now? 

“We told you we wanted to discuss something with you, sweetheart,” Davey started, taking Clay’s seat on the stool. “Now seems as good a time as any.”

George rolled his eyes. “You’re scaring her, for Christ’s sake.” He pulled me close and kissed my temple. “It’s nothing bad, Char, at least we don’t think you’ll think it’s bad.” That didn’t sound comforting, but what followed wasn’t bad. It just fucking changed a shit ton of my life in one go.

By the time Clay slipped in before closing, my mind had finally calmed down enough to process what my uncles had told me that morning. I’d managed to get through the day as normally as possible, since I hadn’t seen Keli shooting me any of those looks that I equated with her being concerned for my mental health. I hadn’t dropped anything. I didn’t scream or lose my shit, not even when the two cops popped in for an update on my memory. 

Of course, George and Davey had been in the cafe at the time, and they took both cops to school on police harassment and innocent until proven- They’d stared both men dead in the eye and straight out asked if they honestly thought that their niece was involved in the arson. Even Grumpy Pants gulped uncomfortably at the implications my uncles were making. 

All in all, the day wasn’t a loss. It wasn’t nearly as horrifying as it could have been, after the news that my uncles handed me.

Clay’s arms were around me as soon as I set the alarm, his need for me evident against my stomach as his mouth took mine hotly. Jesus, I thought, being swept into his arms and thinking that he couldn’t get me upstairs fast enough for my tastes, but he didn’t head upstairs. Oh no, clearly Clay wanted to get his breakfast right where he normally did, as he strode with purpose back into the kitchen and joined me on the island countertop where I normally prepared the dough for each morning’s pastries. 

Far sturdier than my bed, the island still took a pounding, because Clay was single-minded in his hunger, and I was more than ready to match him. 

We were still naked, still on top of the island, and still wrapped up in one another when I finally had to let out the laughter that I seemed to have held in since we found George in the kitchen waiting for us. “Something funny, Char?” Skin on skin, I couldn’t think of a better way to start or end a day with Clay. 

“This entire day,” I sighed. “Did you know,” I propped myself up so our eyes could meet. “That this business is mine?” I gestured around, leaving no doubt as to what I meant. His eyes went wide. “I don’t mean that Davey and George just gave it to me,” I shook my head. “Oh no, they literally bought it FOR me, when I was born. The name was something Davey called me when he found out Mom was having me. ‘The Little Drip’ was interchangeable with ‘The Little Bean’, but George convinced him that there were too many coffee shops using the word ‘bean’ in the name.” My wonderful, sweet, thoughtful uncles had thought of me first since the moment they knew I was coming. “George told me that they wanted to make sure that I always had SOMETHING of my own, since they were worried that Walter would find a way to take everything from Mom.” 

“You own the shop?” His fingers were sliding along my skin, listening as I told him how wonderful the two men who basically raised me were. 

“The shop, the house that my mom-” I stopped, taking a deep breath. “They contemplated putting the house they stay in when they’re in town in my name too, but I convinced them that I had more than enough real estate,” and I’d only told Clay about two pieces of it. “Since I’m not interested in relocating, they wanted to make sure I had a home.” 

Clay smiled up at me, his eyes twinkling. “Those two really love you.” I nodded again. “They’re good people, I know, I have experience in reading people.” Biting my lip, I wondered if I’d ever be able to tell my uncles just who Clay really was. “Pretty fucking soon, Charlotte, I hope that MAX will be dealt with, and then no secrets from anyone anymore.” 

“So I don’t have to tell my uncles I’m in a relationship with a corpse?” I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head and sat up to kiss me. “Damn, for once I thought I’d get to make George blush.” His laughter joined mine as our lips met.


	22. Under New Management...

Clay and I did NOT sleep on the island in the kitchen. First of all, I was hungry. For real food, not just Clay based nutrition, no matter how filling he was. And secondly, while the island was an amazing spot for a pounding sexual encounter, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Even with Clay acting as a mattress for me, it was going to make both of us sore in all the wrong ways. 

Dinner in my apartment, that I cooked from scratch, followed by a LONG hot bath was on our menu before bed. As I lay with my back against his chest in the warm water, I felt far calmer than I had all day. It’s not everyday a woman learns that the business she’s managed for years is actually HER business. And the house. That fucking house. I was tempted, heavily, to call a realtor first thing in the morning and list the damn thing. 

“You have some decisions to make, Char.” Clay’s chin was propped on the top of my head and his arms were wrapped around me, holding me against him. 

“I do?” I did, but I was curious as to what he thought they were. 

He hummed his affirmation. “Now that you’re not just the manager of the shop, you could delegate more.” I could, and it wasn’t something I had even thought about. “I’m not saying you have to, but you could.” He was right, I could give someone the dreaded Wednesday inventory and ordering. I could hand off the day to day and focus on baking or find another hobby. Who knew, maybe I could give someone else purpose like managing The Little Drip had given me one.

“What would I do with all that extra time?” I smiled as his fingers slid down my arms and moved lower, giving me ample promise for a new focus for my extra time. 

Dried and lying in my bed, an early bedtime for once, I sighed. While I knew Clay’s theory about the coffee shop was a good one, I still had to deal with the house. That house. The one that loomed dark in my childhood memories. The one where my parents had lived together with me for the first five years of my life. The one where my father broke my mother’s will to live. The one where she killed herself. 

“What’s wrong?” Clay’s voice, the tones of it I was learning intimately, took on the softness that came as he was allowing himself to grow prepared for sleep. 

“I’m thinking about the house,” I felt his nod, so I went on. “I haven’t been back since-” he hummed when I stopped, letting me know he understood. “Knee jerk reaction is to sell it, sight unseen, just call up a realtor tomorrow and get rid of it.” 

“But?” His voice was still soft, but I knew his training meant he was fully awake. 

I tried to explain why the urge was high, but something was holding me back. “I don’t think I can explain why I don’t do it. Just cut ties and let go.” I strained, why was this so difficult for me? 

“I’m sure, Char, that you had moments of happiness there. It wasn’t all-” he stopped, using his finger to tilt my chin up so our eyes met in the dim light of the streetlamps through my lace curtains. “Before he left, when you and your mom spent time playing together,” a memory of a tea party in my playroom, my mom sitting across from me with a smile lighting up her face as we had real tea and sandwiches on the tiny porcelain set at a small table and chairs came to me. “Or when you read together,” bedtime, propped up against her side while she read through one of the many books she read to me nightly. “Even when you were older, after he left, didn’t you have moments that weren’t tinged by it?” My birthdays, with Davey and George pushing my mom from her shell of pain, with Carrie and her mom helping her forget for a tiny speck of time that her pain wasn’t everything. Reminding her that she had me, even if I escaped the house and her as often as I could, and how when everyone left, the two of us tried so desperately to keep that feeling going, only to lose the fight as soon as morning dawned. 

“They aren’t all bad memories, Clay, but the bad are pretty damn miserable.” My father looking at my mother and me as though we were beneath him. The fact that I couldn’t think of one pleasant memory that included the three of us, not even holidays, since those included Davey and George and they barely counted. Walter would sequester himself in a separate room. He’d open presents, but then slink off on his own. He didn’t coddle me, or cuddle me, I wasn’t sure I even had a standard fresh from the womb picture of him holding me. I sighed, burying my face in his shoulder and breathing him in because even after a bath using my soap and shampoo, Clay managed to still smell exactly like Clay. 

“Will you take me to see it?” I tried hard not to tense up at the thought of going back inside the house. “We can drive past if you want, we don’t have to go inside.” I considered it, realizing that tucking it all the way out of my mind didn’t appear to solve anything.

“We can go, inside too, if you want to.” My voice muffled against his skin, but I knew he heard me. I kissed his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “I think I can face anything with you beside me.”

Geroge was waiting for us the next morning in the kitchen, eyes twinkling at our appearance and our linked fingers. Clay had his breakfast upstairs and would probably last through the day without needing a repeat on the island, but he did beg off from gopher duties. Kissing me as if we didn’t have an avid audience, he said his goodbyes, and George offered to walk him to the door so he could grab us drinks and I could get started.

As we baked, George asked me how I was handling what Davey and he had told me about the day before. I’d always been honest with my uncles, talking to them about any concerns I had or any questions that came to me about things in my life was natural somehow. This was no different, with the tiny exception of who Clay and his associates were. I wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the subject of my being involved with a man who was, at least on paperwork, dead. 

“Clay wants to see the house,” I told him after I explained my conundrum over what to do with the property. “He told me we could just drive past, if I didn’t want to go in.” 

“He seems-” when he paused I looked up from where I was forming dough to see his puzzlement over what he wanted to say. “Nice is a little too tame for a man like Clay, isn’t it?” 

My smirk answered him and I went back to forming pastries, thinking to myself that nice didn’t nearly cover Clay at all. 

Once we had the display cases filled, George and I each took a sweet treat and sat at a table near the counter. As we ate, and settled in for the day, he asked me if I was planning on changing anything about The Little Drip now that I had full reign. 

“I still want to be here most days,” I offered between bites. “But I think I’d like to promote one of the baristas to manager, at least to get inventory and ordering off my chore list.” George chuckled, knowing that was the one duty I appreciated least. “Managing this shop, it saved me,” my uncle’s eyes met mine. “Gave me a purpose, and I think I want to pass that along.” 

“That’s my girl,” he said, a smile bright on his face. “We wanted to tell you sooner, we did, but-” he sighed, and looked toward the windows facing the street. “Walter is a snake and a weasel, we had to make sure that you were strong enough to stand up to him.” 

“And I am?” My head was tilted when he faced me again. His smile told me more than words ever could. “Of course I am, I was raised by two of the strongest men I know.” I reached out my hand and he took it easily. “I love you two, you know?”

“We do,” he answered, for him and Davey. “We love you so much, Char, so damn much. I always thought-” he stopped, seeming to think better of what he was going to say. 

“What?” I squeezed his fingers, wanting to know what he thought. “Tell me, G.”

“I always thought, it was almost like you were born to be ours.” He looked conflicted, and I understood. He never wanted my mom to die, but having me in their lives, as a daughter as opposed to just a niece felt right. I’d felt it too.

“I always thought I was yours.” Blinking back tears, I smiled. “I feel so guilty for what happened to her, George, so fucking guilty that I couldn’t be enough, that I ran from her.”

He shushed me, standing and pulling me into his arms. “No, Char, that wasn’t your fault. You were so young and she was so broken, sweetheart. She needed peace, and she found it in the only way she could.” I managed to regain my composure as I listened to my uncle tell me how he saw my mother’s suicide. “She knew that we loved you so much, that we took good care of you, and she knew she could go and you’d be safe and loved.” And she’d been right, if that was her goal, it had worked. “Are you sure you want to go to the house? Even with Clay-”

“With Clay I can face anything,” my conviction was growing in that belief, firmer and surer by the moment. “He’ll know if it’s too much, or he’ll listen when I tell him it is at least.”

George left after Keli showed up. She was far more mellow than she had been, the snark still alive and well, but she seemed to know that I’d listened to her and HEARD her. She and George exchanged pleasantries and it came to me. If Keli was doing paperwork, inventory, and ordering, she wouldn’t be in close contact with the customers. If Keli wasn’t in close contact with the customers, maybe the rates of my insurance wouldn’t skyrocket because I felt pretty certain that she might end up biting someone. Matt or Alex Xavier were at the top of the list for potential victims. 

As we worked to get the shop ready to truly open, I broached the subject with her by first breaking the news that I was the owner.

“Of course you are,” she rolled her eyes. “Not even two flaky fairies like George and Davey would just toss someone your age the keys to this place and wander off to frolic in the sand in Florida.” 

“You couldn’t have tossed me a clue?” I asked, mouth quirked. “Damn, Keli, now I’m wondering if offering you the management position is really a good idea? I mean I’d want a manager that keeps my dumb ass in the loop.”

She’d gone completely still with her back to me. “Manager?” Her voice was barely a breath and I almost took it back and said I was joking in case she was pissed that I’d offer it to her, with her family’s plans to relocate and all. 

Before I could she turned to face me and I was shocked to see a smile on her face. I’d seen many expressions grace Keli’s face since I hired her, a smile was not one of them. Yes, I do realize that hiring a woman who didn’t smile often for a customer service job didn’t sound smart, but she was capable, had a memory like a fucking steel trap, and she was efficient as hell. 

“It would come with a raise in pay,” I continued, confident she wouldn’t throw a bag of coffee beans at my head now. “Of course it would also come with more duties.”

“Such as?” As we finished up the opening prep work, I went over what duties I planned on turning over to her. “Done.” And with that, Keli became The Little Drip’s manager. Or would once I had an employee meeting to make it official. 

“I’ll tell everyone as they come in, but I think we should have a meeting to make it official.” She nodded, walking to the door to flip the sign. “Not here though. Let’s do it at Enzo’s. Make it a celebration and a meeting. You can bring Stacy and Jason, the others can bring their significant others and family.”

“You gonna bring Clay?” I felt my mouth drop open at her use of his fucking name. “What? Just because I don’t use their names, doesn’t mean I don’t KNOW their names.” She rolled her eyes, but her smile held. “I like the idea. We don’t really social much outside of the shop, why not?” 

And that’s how, in the course of two days, I became the recognized owner of The Little Drip and Keli was promoted to manager. And somehow that was the normal part of my week...


	23. You Can Never Go Home Again...

To say I wasn’t tempted by the idea of doing a drive-by instead of a inside tour of my mom’s house would be a fucking lie. There was a HUGE part of me, even with the confidence having Clay by my side gave me, that wanted to drive by as fast as possible with a nod of my head toward the house and then fuck all the way off, but that wouldn’t do. Facing it, getting it out of the way, and then deciding what to do with the house was the best course of action. At least that’s the mantra I kept repeating to myself throughout the morning, while I also prepared for the celebratory dinner at Enzo’s.

Carrie was in the office when I called and she nearly squealed at the idea of a party being held. I wanted to cancel, just from the glee that she seemed to be oozing, but then I shrugged. Small tourist town on the coast, we didn’t get much excitement, I guess. We talked over how to make it work, without alienating Enzo’s regulars, and discussed something that I hadn’t wanted to mention to Keli. 

“If I make it, can I bring it in without Joey getting pissed?” Joey was Enzo’s pastry chef, a territorial Italian who was known to lose his shit if he overheard a muttered complaint about the tiramisu. 

Carrie snorted. “Joey will be fine as long as I promise him that you aren’t stealing his job. He keeps hearing glowing reviews of the pastries you make over at the Drip, he doesn’t KNOW it’s you, but he suspects.” Takes a baker to know one, I thought. “I’ll handle his overabundance of testosterone, you take care of the cake.” 

I chose Saturday night. I hoped that Davey and George would come, and I thought I’d ask Clay to invite his team. It felt right, somehow to have all of us together for a night of celebration. Plus, with all of us in one spot, maybe I wouldn’t worry about the knife hanging over our heads.

Clay came in around lunchtime, and I smiled as I shifted control to Keli. While I did it almost daily when I made a run to the bank, this time we both knew, as did the girls I left in her hands, was different. She wished us well for our chore, since I told her what we were planning, and Clay’s eyes widened when she didn’t look murderous while she offered it. 

I was chuckling as we walked to my car. “Keli’s my new manager,” I offered as I beeped the car unlocked so we could get in. “I think she’s taking well to her new role.” His eyes met mine when we got inside the car and I smiled. “You told me I should start delegating more.”

His answering smile nearly made me forget why we were in the car. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” I was still thinking about Keli, but he went on. “I’m right here, Char, if it gets too hard-” Oh, I blinked, he meant the house. Right, the whole point of the day. Shit. 

“I know,” now, I added, starting the car and pulling onto the street. And I hoped he knew how much I loved having him with me.  
The house I grew up in looked more like a doll house than my memory bank allowed it to. In fact, if someone asked me to describe it prior to us pulling up in front, I might have created a word image that was a cross between the Addam’s family house and Dracula’s castle. Good times, good times. 

In reality, it was white with pale blue trim. The scalloped framework of the wrap around porch, the white picket fence, the perfect lawn all belied the darker memories that took place inside. I shook my head when I took in the matching dollhouse mailbox. 

“I forgot she added that,” I muttered, touching the wood with a fingertip. “She tried so hard to make everything picture perfect.” Clay was looking around, and I knew he was wondering if I had the key. “It’s here,” I held up the keyring that held all the keys I used daily. “Habit,” I murmured, thinking that it made little sense to have kept it with me, but I had. 

“Are you ready?” His voice was quiet as we walked through the gate, up the floral lined pathway. I nodded, thinking it was all surreal. The last time I- Shaking it off, I took the steps onto the porch carefully, smiling at the care that Davey had paid for to keep up the house no one ever went inside.

I unlocked the door and took a deep breath. Opening it, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the air wasn’t stale. Then again, Davey and George probably had someone come in and air it out regularly, not to mention keep the dust at bay. What I wasn’t prepared for, as I stepped over a threshold I hadn’t touched since I was ten years old, was the fact that it was still completely furnished just like the last time I was inside. 

Looking around, without moving further than the entry hall, it felt like if I stood still I’d hear her call out. That my mom would come through the doorway from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and admonishing me for staying at the cafe too late. Or from the living room, a book in her hand and her reading glasses perched on her nose, eyes tight with worry and anxiety, asking me if I’d eaten or if I wanted her to make me a sandwich. 

“Char?” Clay’s voice startled me, so lost in the past that I’d forgotten him. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.” My voice was barely a whisper, I felt scared that I’d pop the bubble of nostalgia, the feeling that she was still here, still just out of sight felt so real to me. 

I’d forgotten how light she’d kept the colors inside the house too, my memories of those years so clouded by the pain she was coiled in. Pale walls, pale wood, pale patterns. I started moving, knowing that she wasn’t here, not really. Her book, or the one she’d been reading last was still by the chair she always sat in near the fireplace in the library. Her glasses on top of it. I was surprised the cup she used for her tea wasn’t next to it on its matching saucer, but the housekeeper had probably washed and put it away. 

It felt surreal, how light and airy the house actually felt, versus how I remembered feeling living inside of it. As I climbed the stairs, wondering what room she’d done it in, if there would be a sign of it, I saw that all the bedroom doors were open. So were the bathrooms. Mom would have had a coronary, I thought with a sad smile. My feet took me to my old bedroom and I held my breath at the sight of the room filled with everything from a childhood that I tried to block out. 

The bed, so big for the tiny girl I’d been the last time I slept in it, had four huge white posts and a set of steps to help me get into it. The bed clothes, were they always lavender colored? I vaguely remembered the dollhouse, another replica of the house I stood in, filled with miniature versions of the furnishings and even the people. Or at least there had been, at one time all of them. I walked to it, feeling Clay watching from the doorway and bent down. 

The house, like the one I was inside of, was immaculate. The little girl was in the kitchen, baking with a man who looked like George. A woman was in the library in Mom’s chair with a tiny book and a cup on the table beside her, a man who looked like Davey on the sofa. Tilting my head, and twisting the house on it’s rotating base, I smiled as the front came into view. There, hanging from the gingerbread trim of the front porch, from a noose I’d fashioned out of dental floss was the doll that looked like Walter. Happy that no one had removed at least the one thing that proved I’d actually fucking lived in this perfect house, I stood up and turned to see Clay staring at me, his eyes flashed to the dollhouse and I waited for him to gasp or his eyes to widened but he just grinned.

“Takes talent to make a functioning noose out of floss, Char,” he came further into the room and took a look around. “This house is something else.”

“This house is a lie,” I amended. “It’s gorgeous, it just doesn’t-” I sighed. Did I want it? 

Clay wrapped himself around me, tucking my head under his chin. “You don’t have to make a decision today, or tomorrow.” I smiled as I snuggled into his chest. “It is a beautiful house though.” I couldn’t deny that. “Want to make at least ONE more good memory here?” 

I tipped my head back and raised an eyebrow. His head lowered to mine and as his mouth met mine I smiled into his kiss thinking, perhaps, just perhaps, the house wasn’t ALL bad.


	24. Game, Set, Lawyer?

Clay helped me make several rooms in my childhood home look far more cheerful before we left and headed back to the cafe. We were in the kitchen, catching our breath as he braced me against the large island in the middle, when my eyes landed on the cup and saucer sitting just behind the glass cabinet over the sink. 

“What do you see, Char?” Clay’s lips were on my bare shoulder, his eyes must have taken note of my focus out of the periphery. His lips left my skin and he turned so he could follow the line of my gaze. “Did they belong to her?” 

I felt my lips curl up into a smile despite the sadness I felt. “Yeah, they were her favorites.” We had an entire set of perfect china, but the cup and saucer didn’t match the set, or one another, for that matter. They were a riot of color, mismatched and silly, and entirely perfect. I vaguely remembered asking her, when I was little why they didn’t match anything we owned, but like a lot of my memories of her, the answer was nowhere to be found. 

“You want to take them home?” He was looking down at me, his hands on my shoulders. “We can wrap them carefully and you can have them nearby.” I moved my hands so they could pull his face down to mine, and as our lips met I felt his curve into the smile I’d fallen in love with. “Or we could make some more happy memories first.” He muttered against my lips. 

When we finally returned to the shop, I found that Keli had taken the deposit to the bank, that our customers were taking the change of management with the grace that I expected, and that my father had visited. Fuck. That last part was exactly what I muttered when Jensen told me after Clay had dropped me off and I met the younger man in my office. 

“Did you-” He shook his head. I let out a relieved sigh. “Well at least there’s that.” I sat down behind the desk and he took one of the other chairs. “Do you know what he’s sniffing around for?”

“Us,” he leaned back and gave out his own sigh. “I know that Clay wants to stick around, MAX is near, we all know it, but I got to say-”

“What if-” it hit me, hard and fast. Shit. “I’m bait.” Clay had said it, when they were doing my security system. That MAX could, if they thought it would work, use me as bait. What if that’s what they were doing? Walter coming in, even after I’d put my proverbial foot down. Matthew and Alex in and out, the warnings over and over. “Jensen, can you get a message to Clay, without GOING to Clay?” He barely moved, but I knew he understood. “The party-we’re going to have to make it a little bit bigger.” 

Truth time. KNOWING that you’re being used as human bait to reel in your boyfriend and his team and being ALRIGHT with being bait isn’t the same thing. It’s really fucking difficult to act normally while setting your own trap for the first trap setters. I don’t even know how to word that, is there a word for it? Hunter/hunted?

Clay worked overtime. Not on trap setting, oh God no. I had a feeling that Lt. Col. Franklin Clay could set a trap in his sleep after being on a three day drinking spree while heavily concussed. No, Clay worked overtime to keep me from being so stressed out and tense that I gave up the fucking entire plan just from my twitchiness. And thank fucking heaven for that, since I had a cake to create. 

Keli becoming my manager gave me ample reason to finally out myself as The Little Drip’s baker. I guess I could out myself as the owner too, but honestly, I was more excited to finally let people know that I created the treats they loved. The cake, a huge layered coffee cup, each layer a different flavor, each layer separated by a paired filling, was a work of edible art. 

George helped me. Clay watched and cheered us on as the cake grew from a single layer to five. And when, on the day of the party, the final touches were completed, he whispered to me that EVERYTHING was in place, I knew that after that night, nothing would be the same. 

Enzo’s was ready for our group, which included not only my staff and their significant others and families, but Davey and George, and Clay’s team and Carrie joined Jensen. Joey came to see the cake, sniffing at it, but then pulling me aside and forcing a promise from me that cannolis and tiramisu was off my menu out of professional courtesy he grudgingly offered that the cake looked delicious. 

“Matthew and Alex Xavier are in the dining room with Walter,” Clay offered as he held my chair, and I knew that my smile grew a tad strained. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, this is our part.” A slight nod from me, and our party began with speeches, food, and cheers. 

“Oh, I thought I heard your voice, David.” Walter, my lips pursed. “What’s worth all this celebration? Is my daughter finally going to get married?” I felt his eyes on me, but Clay’s warmth wasn’t by my side, since he’d slipped away a few moments before. “I don’t see her gentleman, guess not.” 

“Walter,” it was George’s voice that answered, and I had to bite my lip at the venom dripping from it. “I don’t recall seeing your name on the invite list, perhaps you should scurry along to wherever the exterminator’s table might be, isn’t that what your LOVELY wife’s family does for a living?” 

“Always so quick with the quips,” Walter bit out, “Too bad you weren’t faster at-” he never got to finish, since there was something of a very loud commotion in the front of the restaurant, some smoke, a few bangs, and a hell of a lot of screams. “What the-”

“Miss Ramble,” I was holding back the very long suffering sigh that seemed to have grown in the back of my throat over the course of MONTHS. Tweedle Dum was staring at his tiny notebook. “You said that this was a celebratory party for a Ms-”

“Keli Travis,” I offered for the thousandth fucking time it seemed. “Yes, because I promoted her to manager of my coffee shop. As I said.” For the thousandth fucking time. 

“Right,” Tweedle Dee offered, his own tiny notebook upright. “And you were seated-” he was glancing around the event room of Enzo’s as though there were thousands of seats to choose from, than the ONE I was still fucking seated in. 

“Right here,” I bit out, wanting to smack my fucking head on the fucking table. “Just like I-”

“Said, yes, we understand.” Do you? Do you fucking really?! “And since you were in this room, celebrating Ms. Travis’ promotion, sitting in THIS seat, there’s NO WAY you could SEE anything that happened in the other room, much less the front of the restaurant with Mr. Matthew or Alex Xavier and the gentlemen who claim they attacked them?” 

I shook my head, feeling exhausted. “Carrie DiMarco said that there are security cameras outside, don’t they show the attack? I mean, why are you asking ME when there are cameras?” Seriously, leave me the fuck alone, please. 

“Miss Ramble, you should know that we have to be thorough, every person must be spoken to. Every statement taken, every fact checked.” I raised an eyebrow and looked around the EMPTY room. Well, empty but for my uncles. “Other officers are taking care of-”

“You’re finished,” George hung up his cell phone and stalked up to us. “That was our lawyer. Unless you are taking our niece IN for further discussion AT THE STATION and READING her her rights, this is over. And if you ARE reading her her rights, then we’re invoking her right to having her counsel present.” 

The cops shared a ‘she’s so guilty look’, but let me go. And I FINALLY let the LONG suffering sigh loose. For fuck’s sake, really?! In the car, with the quiet slowly rolling over the three of us, I waited for the first question to hit. Because I knew it would and I was curious. Not of which of my uncles would ask, not of what the question would be, but of how I would answer it.


	25. Gone But Not...

Have you ever felt like you age regressed? I’m not talking about picking up a coloring book or having a juice box. I’m talking full on, oh shit, am I suddenly five years old again? Because that’s how it felt as my uncles drove me home from what was supposed to be a celebratory dinner at my favorite restaurant with my favorite people.

Silence wasn’t something the three of us was known for, much less awkward stifling silence. Yet, as Davey drove us down the familiar streets toward their house, ignoring the route that would take us to the coffee shop and my apartment, it’s all that we had.

I knew there would be questions, and concerns. I knew that the catalyst that came from Clay’s team and MAX’s standoff would somehow come to a head and involve my family, but I thought somehow that I’d have come up with a way to explain it. To be able to make it make some type of sense, or at least so they wouldn’t worry, but that was stupid, so stupid. How could I EVER explain this entire mess to my uncles? Without them worrying?

Davey drove into the garage, he let the garage door shut behind us, and then we all walked into the house, still silent. I thought I could feel the waves of their disappointment, but I wasn’t gauging anything correctly, not at all.

I watched, confused as they went room by room, searching for what I hadn’t a single clue. Then back to where they’d left me before motioning for me to follow them into the kitchen where George turned on the blender and a food processor while Davey turned on the CD player. Seeing me staring at them as if they’d both lost their minds, they moved closer so we could talk in whispers.

“Since we have to believe that you’re being watched,” Davey muttered, since our heads were all close together, his lips barely had to move to be heard above the racket. “We have to assume that they bugged any property that is associated with you.”

“Including our house.” George agreed with a sigh. My eyes flashed to his and he grinned. “Did you think that Clay wasn’t going to take a moment to clue us in?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “He loves you, and wants you safe. As soon as we came back, almost-” he corrected when Davey nudged him and rolled his own eyes. “He gave us the condensed version of their story.”

“It helped that we’re not fans of Walter or his cronies.” Davey agreed. “You have to stay here tonight.” My mouth opened to argue, but he shook his head. “Clay made us promise, Charlotte. Whatever is happening, you need to be safe and sound HERE.”

“When-” their eyes told me more than anything they could have said. They didn’t know. None of us would know anything, not until it was over. Until the dust or flames or bodies were found, no one would know anything. For now we were all in limbo, and I couldn’t even go home.

I was due, according to my uncles and the ‘party line’ as it were, for a vacation. Keli was in charge of The Little Drip and I was in forced isolation at my uncles’ house. George kept me busy with baking. Our conversations were benign, since we couldn’t be sure that the house wasn’t bugged, and Davey was our source of ‘news’.

News, what a joke. My father was still playing as a BMOC. A new election was looming, so he was campaigning, I could see the signs popping up when I bothered peeking out the front windows. MAX, or Matthew and Alexander were strangely absent from the narrative currently. They weren’t stumping for Daddy Dearest, but they also weren’t being mentioned at all. Not as criminal elements, body parts found scattered, or missing persons which would make Clay’s return imminent.

Instead, limbo. Limbo and baking. Limbo and binge watching television shows. Limbo and god help me, board games. I was growing stir crazy. I wanted news, real news, something that told me that Clay was alive and safe. News that promised his return and good things ahead. Something that wasn’t THIS.

A week passed. Then another. A knock came to the front door and I would have rushed to answer it, but Davey probably would have tackled me to safety. Instead, George opened it to find Carrie holding takeout and a face that was strikingly similar to the one that stared back at me in the mirror.

“I thought I’d bring dinner,” she said with a forced smile. “And see if you-” I shook my head, as my uncles helped her with her burden. She sighed, the smile dropping. “Dinner then.”

The four of us gathered around the dining room, plates filled with pasta and bread, uncorked bottles of wine and faces that looked like a wake. “We can’t keep this up,” I sighed into my forkful of alfredo. Everyone stared at me. “This,” I gestured at the room at large, at me and Carrie in particular. “We can’t.” I set my fork down. Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I did something I’d been talked out of doing since the moment that I arrived at my uncle’s house that night. I sent a text that I had typed up that very moment. It was simple, it wasn’t the least bit personal, but it was necessary. For my fucking sanity at least. I hit the send button and sat the phone down again, picking up my fork and held up my head. “What?”

“Was that a good idea?” Carrie, the one person who MIGHT know what hung in the balance personally, even as her eyes gleamed with the same hope that I clung to.

“No clue,” I shook my head, stabbing another bite. “But I can’t do this-” another gesture at the silence and the waiting. “Not for much longer.”

I didn’t get a response immediately. I didn’t expect one. Our foursome ate, drank, and while we weren’t ‘merry’ we weren’t entirely miserable either. The ding of a message came in as Carrie was getting ready to leave. All four sets of eyes landed on my phone, still sitting on the dining room table.

“It’s probably just Keli.” I muttered, unwilling to get my hopes too high. I picked it up and swiped the screen. I felt my lips curl up at how wrong I was, at how much relief I felt from a single photo with a time stamp. I sighed so loudly that I actually FELT the other three unwind from their own stress. “Safe.” I held up the screen and Carrie nodded, her eyes glassy at the picture of Clay and the team in a crowded selfie, safe and sound.

It was enough. To hold me off, to keep me sane. For now at least.


	26. Dark Comes the Night...

I was in my second childhood bedroom, this one in a happy place, my uncles’ house, but still as ill fitting as the first. Carrie had left, in a better state than when she’d arrived, Davey and George had bundled themselves off to their room as lovey dovey as if they were still newlyweds and that left me alone.

I’d wandered the house, making certain the doors and windows were secure. As if they suddenly wouldn’t be, and then I’d finally gotten ready for bed. On my back, in the center of a canopied bed fit for a fairy princess that I would NEVER be, I fought the urge to open the message again. Staring at the photo wouldn’t make him manifest, I told myself. Willing him to appear wouldn’t make it happen.

I sighed, rolling over and bunching my pillow into a more comfortable shape. At some point the carbs and wine worked their magic and sleep gripped me, pulling me under and promising rest, if not dreams.

Warmth, far more warmth than the quilt on my bed or the temperature of the house would warrant, was pressed against my back. And were those fingertips sliding up my arm, pushing my hair away from my neck. Lips, those were DEFINITELY lips against my neck. I arched back into his body, thinking that if this was nothing more than a dream, then I would happily take advantage of my imagination full throttle.

“Are you waking up for me, Char?” His whisper against my earlobe forced me to whimper in response. “Come here, sweetheart, I missed you.”

Our mouths met in the darkness like they were magnetic, his tongue and mine needing the taste of one another like air. My fingers tangling in his curls, his clutching at my back and holding me tight against him. The blankets were twisted between us, forming another barrier, but for now all I could focus on was his mouth, his face, his hands. I pulled away, searching for his eyes, and there he was. Clay.

“It’s you, right? You’re not a dream?” My fingertips were tracing his face, making sure he wasn’t some figment of my imagination. He shook his head and kissed my fingertips. “Are you back?”

“Soon,” he promised, leaning forward so his lips could brush mine again. “Very fucking soon, Charlotte, we’ll be back for good.”

We managed to throw the blankets off the bed, to get rid of our clothes as easily, and then like we’d been apart for years and not a couple weeks, we made love like our lives depended on it. He held me until the hour before dawn. His body heat keeping me warm, his mouth keeping me occupied.

“Did Jensen get the same conjugal visit?” I asked, watching Clay dress in the darkness before dawn. He smiled and nodded. “Good, Carrie looked about as sane as I was feeling.” He leaned over me, cupping my face with his hand and kissing my lips, my nose, and my forehead.

“I love you, Charlotte Ramble and I will be back before you can feel that again.” He pulled the blankets back from the floor and tucked me in. “Sleep, sweetheart. And tell Davey and George that the only bugs in the house are ones I have planted.” He kissed me senseless and left me with the image of his blinding smile and a shaking head.

Big, overprotective, sexy asshole.


	27. Back in the Saddle...

I was stir crazy and George knew it. He threw me a bone, arguing Davey down and backing me in my decision to return to work. He wouldn’t agree to me staying in my apartment alone, but small victories, right?

Keli had The Little Drip running like clockwork, but she pretended she missed me to make me feel better. “Bout time you showed up for work,” she muttered, smirk on her face as she nudged me with her hip, eyes glancing from the clipboard to the supplies and back to me. “How are you doing?”

I shrugged, looking around the coffee shop, seeing the pastry case filled reminded me of George stepping up to bat for me, but all I could think about was how much I missed the hustle and bustle, AND my favorite feisty four. Jensen’s table was bare, no black suit jacket flashed into my path, Pooch’s bright smile wasn’t peeking out from a corner, and Cougar wasn’t perched anywhere I could see him. Sighing, I begged off inspecting the main shop, telling Keli and the others that I’d be in the office going over the books.

Ensconced in my office, the peace that once would have overtaken me, the shop laptop, the scarred top of the desk, the cramped space, all of it would have just worked somehow to make me feel in control of my world wasn’t present. A quiet knock and I let out the huff of hair that wasn’t quite a sigh, but wasn’t quite a simple exhale.

“Come in,” I offered, expecting one of the baristas, or an uncle, but instead got Walter. Great. “Now get out.” I woke up the laptop and pulled the stack of paperwork that Keli had carefully piled and sorted for me closer. The door closed, but I knew he was inside of it, instead of outside. Damn it. “Seriously?” This time there could be no mistaking the sigh. “What, aside from the literal unluckiness of my actual birth, did I fucking do to deserve this?” I gestured to the man who gave me my last name and theoretically part of my genetic makeup.

“Charlotte,” he’d taken the chair that Clay had sat in before, and I flinched at the memory. “Why must you make every single meeting between us awkward or-” he sighed and unbuttoned his suit jacket, forcing me to make peace with the fact that he was settling in for a visit of some length. “What do you know about this Clay you’ve been seeing?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to have the ‘talk’ with me, Walter?” A snort left me and he glared. “You missed that boat by YEARS.” I was almost impressed by how narrow his eyes could go without shutting. “I guess that Matthew and Alex have been whispering sweet horrors in your ears, and you, being my-” I considered the best adjective for whatever Walter was roleplaying as and came up empty handed. “I’m sorry, Walter, what precisely are you in this particular scenario?”

“Charlotte, regardless of what your-” was he really pursing his lips like a displeased auntie? “Uncles have inferred about me, I am your-”

“Jesus, are you going to mangle a Star Wars quote?” I shook my head and sighed dramatically. “You, Walter Ramble, are my biological sperm donor, nothing more, nothing less.” I sat back in my chair and studied him with a growing smirk. “You really think that my memory doesn’t go back too far, or far enough, do you?” He was staring with some interest at me and my smirk grew in smugness. “I was five, she’d worked so damn hard on that dinner, wanting it to be special to make it so fucking perfect for you.” My head fell to one side, remembering how my mom had fussed over my dress and hair, making me look like a miniature of her, like the miniature house/mailbox and my dollhouse. Make-believe all the way, but she wanted so fucking badly for it to be real. “And you came in, sneering at her, and me, and then, like you’d wanted to since I imagine the first moment you got your little title, you told her EXACTLY how you felt about her. And me. And I remember every fucking moment.”

He flinched, and paled slightly, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob. Clearly this meeting wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. “Charlotte, when a relationship is ending-”

I laughed, harsh and humorless. “Ending? It never should have begun, you told her how she REPULSED you, how I repelled you.” I sighed, and shook my head. “Get out, leave me alone, keep Clay’s name out of your mouth and give me a wide berth, Walter.”

“Do you know what happened in Bolivia?” I’d refocused on the stack of papers and I didn’t look up from them, since I DID know what happened in Bolivia.

“Yep,” I grabbed a highlighter from the cup I kept nearby and started marking the lines that I’d be inputting first.

“I don’t mean the explosion that supposedly killed his team, Charlotte,” I didn’t stop marking my work, since I thought I knew what he was playing at. Their efforts to get back to the United States, their back channels, like it mattered? “Him and that woman he’s got along burned down a motel.” I hesitated, Asha, or Aisha wasn’t it? “That’s extreme foreplay isn’t it? Then again, arson seems in their wheelhouse.”

“This again?” I glanced up and saw that Walter was studying me. “Honestly, it’s like all of you are on repeat. I have NO idea what happened to Matthew and Alex’s building, and the insinuations are getting stale. Nice try with the added spice about Clay’s sexual escapades from the past.”

“Past?” He raised an eyebrow and I worried that it was a family trait. “Charlotte, isn’t she with him now? And from my understanding, he was screwing her right up until they arrived in our little town, she shot the computer nerd one and it didn’t seem to sour their fervor.” Jensen? She shot Jensen and he kept her around? “Of course, from what I’ve heard, Clay seems to attract the less than stable types.” His eyes were boring into mine and I felt a twist inside of me at his implications. “He’s been shot and one attempted to blow him up.”

“Is there a point to this?” My mouth was dry so my voice came out quieter than I’d wanted it to. “I mean, if nothing else, I should be thanking him for bringing us closer together, Walter. After all, I’ve seen more of you in the past few months than I have since I was five years old.”

“Again, Charlotte, regardless of what you’ve been told by-” his nostrils flared at the mere thought of Davey and George. “I’m your father, I don’t want to see you hurt or worse, made a fool of in front of the entire town.”

“Maybe you and Mom weren’t so different after all,” I offered as he finally stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, and his eyes meeting me in astonishment. “Image is everything, isn’t it?”


	28. A Little Birdie...

Once the stench of Walter wafted out of my office behind his overly starched ass, I tried to refocus on the stack of papers that Keli had so diligently collected and separated for me. I went back to highlighting the important parts that would go into the different programs I used to keep track of inventory, accounting, and the general running of the coffee shop, all destined to go from my steady updating to the brain of my accountant and actual specialists who would do the real heavy lifting.

I was doing a fairly decent job, with a flash of flames and Clay entwined with Aisha hitting my brain and heart only every other line, when the office door opened and I bit back a bark for whoever dared to interrupt me to get the fuck out when I saw George staring down at me. Fuck. “Who tattled?” I was thinking that Keli was going to end up in a fucking time out if she was going to be a tattle tale with my uncles every time someone or something unpleasant popped up when I was in house.

“Well,” he offered, nose scrunching up at the chair that Walter had sat in making me wonder if my office was bugged or wired for surveillance and giving me a better idea of the fucking mole. “He’s tall, dark, pretty goddamn sexy if you ask anyone with a fucking pulse.” Clay, my cleverly hidden, supposed to be dead as a fucking doornail other half was watching my every move, which meant-

“That’s why you fought Davey’s insistence that I shouldn’t come back to work,” I sat back and shook my head. “That’s dirty, Georgie, even for you.”

He’d taken the second chair and didn’t try to look abashed by the dressing down I was giving him. “You’re safe with Clay and the others watching, Charlotte, and I will NOT be apologizing for that.” George studied me, the papers, the laptop, then back to my face. “Which part of what Walter the Useless told you bothered you the most?”

“Did Clay tell you what he told me?” George nodded. “So he told you that he burned a hotel down with the woman they have in their group? That there’s some kind of hate fucking lust between them that didn’t cool even after she SHOT Jensen, Carrie’s guy?” He swallowed and looked a little green around the gills but nodded again. “What am I supposed to do with that, George? He didn’t push her away, or keep his distance after that, hell, for all I know-”

“They aren’t, Char.” I stared at him waiting for the proof. “Clay might be a lot of things, but I have a hard time believing that he’s faking what he feels for you, special ops or not.” He shook his head and leaned forward. “He broke into our house to be with you for a few hours. He BUGGED our fucking house to keep you safe and he rigged this damn shop up so he can breathe easier knowing that Walter might be whispering bullshit in your ears, BUT those asshole twins AREN’T torturing you or abducting you.” I sighed, wanting to cling to what he was saying, but I could SEE Aisha’s long thin legs, her smooth skin, the exotic look of her entirety. And then there was me. “Stop that right now, Charlotte Elizabeth Ramble.” My eyes were locked on his and he looked fierce. “You are an amazing young woman who is worth every goddamn moment that any man gives you, but you are more than worthy of Clay’s love. He loves you and you deserve it, you do.”

“I think you’re biased.” I pulled my papers toward me as I moved closer to the desk and tried to get back to work. “You still see the little broken girl that I was when-”

“I see the woman that little broken girl grew into,” he cut me off and kept going. “Charlotte, your parents were shitty at parenting, I won’t sugar coat that, but honey, you have to know that you ARE better than the sum of them. If for no other reason than because you saw them for what they were, two very broken people who shouldn’t have ever gotten together.”

“And,” I smiled when I looked up at one of the two men who raised me to be the woman I became. “Thanks to you and Davey, if you two hadn’t picked up the slack, I shudder to think what might have happened to me.”

“Then let’s not think about it,” he shook his head. “Leave whatever bullshit Walter came to spread where he spewed it, Char, you KNOW Clay. That’s enough.”

I nodded, thinking that at least until I could speak to Clay I’d put the worries to the side. Dwelling on it wouldn’t help, but after assuring George I’d see him at the house after I finished the paperwork, I realized pushing the images away was easier said than done.


	29. Girls' Just Wanna...NOT THIS

A small part of me, a tiny little bit, really hoped that my insecurity that was brought to life by Walter would somehow bring Clay back for another late night visit. And I hated that part of me because it felt so very like my mother. 

I wasn’t THAT woman. The woman who sat at home and was afraid to look out the window because she MIGHT see HIM drive by with HER, the other woman. That was my mom. NOT me. 

Which is why I did something completely stupid and talked Carrie into doing it with me. After going home that night, sleeping in my childhood bed that smelled like Clay, while dreams of hotels in flames and his body entwined with limbs that were far too long and far too tanned to be mine tortured me, I woke up with an idea that I should have known was a horrible one. I did know it reeked of terribleness, since I didn’t call Carrie or go to her house, oh no, I waited and went to the restaurant. 

If you are going to do something incredibly stupid and irresponsible, it’s always a good idea to make sure you make the plans where you can’t be heard. I mean especially when your boyfriend and your best friend’s boyfriend are both fucking black op freaks who probably have your underwear wired for sound. That’s just common sense. I went to Enzo’s during the lunch rush, pulled Carrie into the kitchen while a horde of loud Italian cooks were screaming at one another, and plotted for a girls’ night out. 

We both grinned like morons, which should have rung both of our internal warning bells. Neither of us were rebels. We were the daughters of the town saints for fuck’s sake, even if my saintly mother ate a bullet after marrying an idiot. No, Carrie and I were the good girls who were known for never missing curfew and always having a designated driver, usually being the designated drivers. So the fact that we were looking like the Grinch, Cheshire Cat, and Joker all rolled into one, should have tipped both of our stupid asses off, yet it didn’t. I blame the emotional trauma that falling in love with men like Clay and Jensen can do to normal women. Actually I just blame Clay, period. 

George and Davey weren’t home when I got back from my ill wind errand, and when they did come back it was to tell me that they’d been asked to dinner by a few old friends and would I be alright for the evening. I took this as a sign that the stars and fate wanted us to have our evening out, I should have taken it as a sign of how fucked up my life was going to get. They were like giddy boys off to play hooky, which tells you how much television and board games we’d watched and played, and I got ready as soon as the door shut behind them. 

Carrie came just as I was tossing my cell phone in a smaller clutch, slid my heels on, and we were out the door with a small note left for my uncles promising them I’d be fine and home before they even knew it. 

We were giddy too, like George and Davey, without the urge to make out. Both of us were out of our element a bit, since we weren’t up to the current trends for the bar and club scene we headed toward the boardwalk. Our town was touristy without the trappings of being an actual tourist trap, so we found a few promising places, and settled in when we entered the third bar. It had a dancefloor, a fully stocked and capable bar and bar staff, and finger foods. 

Carrie and I made one rule: No talking about the boys. No Jensen. No Clay. And we stuck to it. We laughed and joked about our school days. We drank our drinks and drinks that were sent to us by men who must have been visiting our tiny hamlet, because we knew EVERYONE, but these people were unknown. We danced with one another, and with a few of our drink buyers. We had fun, and for a few hours we both dropped the worry about our guys and their team off our shoulders and just lived.

It was closing time, Carrie had excused herself to go to the ladies before we walked back to my uncles’ house, she agreed to spend the night since I wasn’t planning on letting her walk home alone and our house was closest, when one of the more frequent of our dance partners saddled up next to me. 

“Need a ride home?” He was standing closer than I cared for, so I took a step to the side, but he followed me. Ugh. “You don’t look up for driving yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” Carrie had started walking toward us and I smiled. “My date and I plan on walking home together.” 

“Why walk when I can drive you?” He was persistent, I’d give him that. Carrie was close enough to touch, but the man stepped in front of me and I glared up at him, now he was being a dick. “Don’t be like that, Char, I bought you enough drinks to down a guy three times your size.”

“How do you-” a pinch hit my neck and my lips started to tingle. “Wha-” my tongue no longer wanted to cooperate and I blinked up at the man in front of me, but I couldn’t seem to focus on his features. 

“Get the other one,” a voice muttered behind me, and then I felt something yanking at me, but my eyes must have gone crossed because everything went fuzzy and dark.

I woke up in a room that was completely dark. I mean, pitch black dark. Or was it? I blinked and felt like something was over my face, was that my blanket? Damn it, I hated it when my blanket ended up over my face during the night. I reached for it, but my arms wouldn’t raise up. I tried again, nothing. What the fuck?!

“I think she’s awake.” That voice, where did I know that voice from? “Yeah, the other one isn’t.” I heard a thump and a chuckle. “Hope you didn’t fuck up the dosage, they don’t want ‘em dead yet.” 

Dead, yet? I felt the alcohol I’d drank bubble in my stomach and prayed to God to keep it down. Throwing up while my fucking head was covered, while tied the fuck down would be a quick way to get rid of the ‘yet’ portion of their equation. 

“Should we call ‘em?” Another voice asked, still somewhat familiar, but not really. “Tell ‘em that we got ‘em and that one is waking up?”

A sigh. “Yeah, I guess. ‘Specially since the one they want is awake, other one is more of a spare anyway.” Spare? Carrie, I shut my eyes, fuck. I fucked all the way up. So fucking fucked up. Shit.

The next time I heard voices I had NO trouble knowing who they came from, no trouble at all, and I was at least calmer now because Carrie had made some noises that said she was alive. 

“Why are they tied up AND their heads covered?” One of the Xavier twins asked, sounding peeved. “One precaution was more than enough.” He sighed. “Didn’t you say they were out drinking?” I heard an affirmative. 

“Then wouldn’t tying them up while they were UPRIGHT or at least seated upright been smarter?” Since the voice came from the other side of me, I knew it was the other twin. “I miss Wade, he wouldn’t have made a mess like this one.” He sounded like he was reminiscing about an old friend or a pet. 

“Right, sorry,” one of the minions, clearly. “Should I-”

“Yes,” the first twin sounded like he was bleeding patience. “Remove the hoods, and untie them one at a time and retie them to the chairs.” 

A long suffering sigh in stereo told me both twins were feeling like they should have splurged on better help. And then my dark mask was gone and I was blinking in light so bright that I kind of wished I had it back. I hissed at the way it stung my eyes, made my brain feel like it was throbbing inside my fucking skull, and wish I was dead already so at least the light wouldn’t hurt me anymore. The sound repeated from my right, so I knew Carrie and I weren’t going to be repeating girls’ night anytime soon, if we survived this, I mean. 

“Ah, hello, Charlotte.” And as if the world wasn’t cruel enough after a drinking binge that ended in a kidnapping, hovering over my face were two of the most obnoxious looking assholes I’d ever seen, twins who made me want to vomit.

No sooner had one of the roofie minions untied me, then I rolled to the side and vomited every single ounce of what was left in my stomach after my girls’ night out, all over- I had to wait until my stomach was empty to check, but seeing the black glove I smiled, wiping my mouth I glanced up. “Oops, sorry, Alex.” My triumph was short lived, first the backhand, then the fist full of my hair yanking my aching head back so he could tell me how much I was going to regret my mess and my choices in men causing me more pain than I cared to admit. 

“Tie her and her little friend up,” Matthew ordered, having stepped well out of the path should Carrie follow my suit. “Pity you had to bring Carrie into your mess, Charlotte.” He tisked, adjusting his suit cuffs. “Alex, you should change, if we get that to a dry cleaner perhaps they can salvage it.”

I rolled my eyes as the minion tied me to a chair. “Yeah, because losing that suit would be a fucking tragedy of epic proportions.” Another slap and I thought I was going to have to fucking find my verbal filter before I ended up with whiplash. “Damn it.” I was squinting against the pain and the brutally bright light. “Could we at least darken the room a bit?”

“No,” Matthew again, since Alex seemed incapable of speech. “We’ll be back once you two-” he looked at the idiots who’d abducted us. “Clean that horrible mess she made up.” 

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want the torture to be interupted by the scent of my vomit,” I muttered, and was hit again. “For fuck’s sake, man. It’s an ugly suit.” Alex was glaring down at me and I swear, he was foaming a bit at the mouth.

“It’s ARMANI.” He spit out and I smirked. 

“It’s UGLY ARMANI.” I retorted and earned another smack. For fuck’s sake, Charlotte, shut the fuck up. “Ouch, that hurt.”

It was Alex’s turn to smirk. “And to think, we’re just getting started.”

He walked out with his twin, and I sighed in relief. Maybe a bit of a reprieve would help me reapply my fucking filter before I got my brain rattled out of my head and my teeth loosened. “Carrie?” I heard her whimper and I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” She whispered, as we listened to the two assholes who plied us with drinks bickering about who got to clean up my puke before their masters came back to torture us, or at least me.


	30. I'd Rather Be A Smart Ass Than A....

Things I learned while being held captive/kidnapped/tortured or otherwise inconvenienced due to my intimacy with a thorn in the side of my biological sperm donor’s bestest friends ever:

My smart mouth increases exponentially with the amount of alcohol consumed and the amount of inconvenience I’m put in, regardless of how much discomfort or pain I’m handed or doled out in consequence of it.I have a higher threshold for pain than I’d ever thought possible.

I do not have a high enough threshold for apathy for Carrie’s pain, however.

I don’t have a poker face when it comes to my lack of apathy for Carrie’s pain, which leads to Carrie experiencing more pain due to my lack of filter and higher than usual smart ass comments.

While I had more than enough bruises and I’d spit blood out of my poor abused mouth more times than I cared to count, hearing Carrie’s whimpers, groans, and holy shit don’t make me relive the screams was enough to make me dry heave.

“At least you don’t have anything in you to make a mess this time,” Alex taunted as he nodded at whichever asshole was assaulting Carrie in his stead. “Now, I know you have SOME way to get in touch with them, Charlotte, so tell me. How do you contact Clay?”

“I fucking told you, you over dressed, pompous baboon’s ass.” I glared up at him, thinking this was another useless round of me telling him over and over the same fucking thing. “I text him, or call, but since whatever happened at Enzo’s, the only thing I’ve gotten has been a fucking picture with one fucking word.”

“This one,” Matthew came up beside his twin and I was thankful that I KNEW they were twins and both existed or I’d have assumed I had brain damage from the dual images. He held up my cell phone, which he’d pilfered from my clutch, and showed me the photo that led Clay to my bed. I nodded. “Time stamped two days ago.” He had the photo turned back to him and my glare grew when he swiped the screen.

“Hey, don’t be a dick, you don’t need to fucking swipe, that’s the only picture that fucking matters to you and your merry henchmen.” He snickered and showed Alex the screen. “Har har, yeah, laugh it up.”

“I’d send this one to Walter, but I’m not sure his heart would take seeing his little girl in such an adult light,” Matthew was looking at me in an altogether pervy look and I wanted to throw up again, but like his asshole brother mentioned, my tank was empty.

“My sperm donor hasn’t looked at me as anything other than an inconvenience since the day my mother pooped me out,” I yawned, feeling bored with the entire ordeal, and now that it was quiet since Carrie was getting a break from the assholes mauling exhaustion was setting in. “Send it, maybe then he can get over trying to give me the sex talk, seeing me and Clay in that position should tell him that I’m well versed.” I smirked through bleary eyes and groaned when Alex fisted my hair again. “Damn it, hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to treat a lady?”  
He snorted in my face and I rolled my eyes. “I know precisely how to treat a lady, Charlotte. The issue here is that you’re not a lady.” He yanked my head back and I felt like my neck was going to snap off. “If we text him, will he only reply or will he visit?”

I was forced to face him, but I could shut my eyes to gather strength and try to pray to someone, anyone. As soon as my eyes fluttered shut, however, I heard another heart wrenching whimper from Carrie and Alex tugged on my hair again, making me think I would have some bald spots if I made it out of this alive. Actually I’d have them if I wasn’t alive, but I probably wouldn’t care as much in that event.

“He’ll reply,” I managed to choke out from the way he had my head pulled taut. He was staring down into my face with rapt interest, but I planned on giving him nothing more. No more hope for catching Clay and the others.

While Alex held me in his literal hand, I heard a sharp squeal come from Carrie and then her pleading. My throat burned as I felt bile rise and my eyes were aflame with the threat of tears. Fine, I thought, he wants the truth, I’ll fucking give it to him.

“He’ll come.” I told him, staring him dead on and forcing my words out, past the burning and the lump of fear. “He’s probably already searching this entire damn town. He was probably on his way before we even left for the evening.” I smiled as Alex’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “Clay has Davey and George’s house bugged. I’d lay odds he has my cell phone, the one in Matthew’s hand, tracked. He, and the entire team, are probably surrounding this fucking building right now listening and planning.” I could almost hear it when he swallowed, the gulp made the taunting easier for me. “Who do you think they’ll take down first? You, Matthew, or one of the minions?”


	31. You Say Armani Like It's a...

The silence that hit as soon as I struck the Xavier twins and their two idiot helpers with the reality of their situation was more welcome than I cared to show them all. Honest to God, no whimpering, squealing, drying heaving, or bitching (at least two of these were from me) made the entire tied to a chair while dealing with a hangover almost manageable. It also helped that Alex wasn’t twisting my hair around his fucking fist anymore, so I wasn’t in danger of being fucking scalped any longer.

I was contemplating a nap, because the silence was nearly making the blinding light bearable, when the peanut gallery felt the need to talk over the likelihood that I was blowing smoke up their asses. 

“She could just be lying to get a reprieve,” Alex muttered, and a glance up showed me that he was still looking down at me with the same amount of trust that I would have shown him under the same circumstances. His eyes narrowed and I steeled myself for another round of scalp torture, but was as shocked as him when Carrie spoke.

“She’s not,” her voice was hoarse from the cries she’d been forced to utter through whatever the assholes had hit her with and I shut my eyes at the thought of what she would look like after this. I could hear her inhale deeply and then she went on, since the quiet descended when she spoke. “Jensen came to my house after she texted them and got that confirmation.” 

My eyes opened to witness a look pass between the twins and I felt a smirk tug at my lips. “Ut oh.” Alex’s eyes met mine and I couldn’t fight it anymore. “Are you trying to decide if the two of you can fuck off fast enough to avoid a bullet?” I tilted my head, which reminded me that his fingers were still tangled in my hair. “Or are you thinking that Dumbass One and Dumbass Two could work well as a distraction, kind of like whoever got flambeed in the building that got torched?” 

The chuckle fucks who had signed on to be minions for the twins of doom heard me and started to argue against this particular possible plan, causing Alex’s fist to tighten in my hair, but also to cause enough chaos that no one was running away and no one was harming Carrie for awhile. While they argued, Matthew shooting down the fears of two men who I wouldn’t have been able to pick out of a crowd they were so memorable and Alex glaring down at me, I wondered if I was as right as I wanted to be.

Since I knew for a fact that Clay had the shop and the house wired for sound, it stood to reason that he would have put some other safety measures in place, just in case. I’d read about the “Find Your Friends” app in a magazine during a doctor’s visit, so I had no doubt that Jensen would be more than capable of putting something similar in play on my phone, and probably Carrie’s too. With the bug at the house he would have heard Carrie and me heading out for the night, and when he didn’t hear us come back that would have led him to trace us, if he wasn’t already once we stepped out of the house. Logic said that he was biding his time, the team’s time, to figure out how best to take down the twins, their henchmen, and save Carrie and me, with the least amount of damage, and the highest rate of success for the goal. Meaning, save us AND get their names cleared and their lives back. 

I had enough time, during the arguing to think this through, and Carrie had some time to reflect too, since she was forgotten during the upheaval that my smart mouth caused. 

“Enough,” Alex snarled, the sound of his voice forcing me back to the situation at hand. “You two,” his eyes were on the idiots behind me, I guessed, since I couldn’t see them. “Do a perimeter check, that way we KNOW if she’s lying.”

They started to argue about being the Stormtroopers or the Redshirts in this scenario, but the look on Alex’s face stopped them mid bitching. Since he was holding my head captive in his grip, I couldn’t see them leave, but then again, the door was behind me too. “Guess they’re expendable, right?” I shrugged. “Hope you don’t have a soft spot for-” I squinted. “Was I supposed to know their names?” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Were you always this annoying?” He looked at his brother. “Was she?” 

“How could I know?” Matthew was still holding my phone and his eyes fell to it. “Should I-”

I grinned. “Send Clay a ‘hey, babe, wanna meet?’ text?” I licked my lips, dry and still rust flavored from the remnants of the bloodiness that Alex caused. “Sure, let’s see if he wants to play.”

“No one asked you, Charlotte,” Alex growled and I rolled my eyes, he was growing tiresome. “Walter should have fought for custody, those twinks raising you made you unbearable, I swear.” 

“Those ‘twinks’ as you call them,” I bit out, eyes narrowing as I sneered up at him, “are more manly than you, your twin brother, AND my sperm donor rolled into one, with those two morons you just sent to their doom added in for flavor. They gave me EVERYTHING, so watch your fucking mouth.” 

Alex opened his mouth like he was planning on telling me off, or something impressive, but my cell phone rang, and his eyes met Matthew’s. “It’s him.” I smirked. 

“Told you so,” I sang, my smirk growing fuller. “Someone’s gonna get it, or someone already did-”

Matthew’s bare hand tapped the screen to answer the call and then another tap had the call on speaker. Clay’s voice was loud and clear, as were his orders. And I had to say, if they thought I was annoying, learning that I was not only telling the truth BUT that I was being modest about Clay’s ire, well seeing the terrible two looking so green around the gills was like icing on my fucking cake. 

“Always sending others to do your dirty work, MAX.” Clay’s voice was like balm for my wounded soul, and my empty stomach. “I really hoped that you weren’t stupid enough to lay a finger on either one of them, but I had a feeling that you WERE, so let me tell you how this is going to go.” Neither twin said a word and their eyes were focused on the phone as if it would tell them how to get the fuck out of this mess. “Both of you will step back, to the farthest wall away from the entrance of the room you have them in, backs to the wall, hands to the ceiling. If either of you so much as twitch when I enter, I promise you your corpses will work just as easily to clear our names as your living bodies. So please, by all means, get an itchy nose. Sneeze. Cough. Give Cougar any fucking reason at all to give your head a new hole.” I smiled as the twins finally glanced at one another and I could see them both swallow hard. “If you somehow manage to NOT move, you’ll be cuffed and turned over to the proper authorities, but I cannot promise what state you’ll arrive in, since that will be dependent on how Charlotte and Carrie’s states look.” Matthew’s eyes fell on Carrie behind me and the pallor that his skin took filled me with dread for her. “Now, I’ll give you 30 seconds to get into position. Put the cell phone on Charlotte’s lap, remove your filthy fucking fingers from her hair, and get your asses where I told you to move.”

I had a moment of fear, as Alex’s hate filled eyes landed on me, that he wasn’t going to surrender. That he was going to kill me, and Matthew would kill Carrie, and they’d die in a hail of bullets just to fuck over Clay a little more. I’d misread how much the twins valued their own selves. 

Matthew tossed the phone into my lap, Alex yanked his hand free in the most painful way he could and then they whispered together as they backed themselves to the wall that Clay had indicated. The call was still ongoing.

“Clay?” I wanted to let him know I was alright, and hear his voice again, not just threatening and ordering, but MY Clay. 

“Char,” he breathed, and I felt my heartbeat relax. “I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.” 

It was almost anticlimactic. Almost. Clay came in first, I guessed, since I heard him barking orders from behind me. A red dot appeared on each twin’s forehead, which made me feel marginally better about my life choices, but then I heard Jensen’s gasp and I knew that we might have a problem.

“Jens,” it was Pooch, and he was trying to reason with him, I could tell. “Keep your mind on the goal. Untie her and we’ll get her help.” I heard muttering, and I heard some other noises that made little sense, but then the twins were on their knees and they were bound so I felt a little happier with everything. 

Clay’s fingers were on my wrists and his nose was against my neck as he got me untied and I felt more of my tension relaxing. “Just had to have a girls’ night, didn’t you?” He muttered and I shook my head. My hands were free and then he was in front of me, kneeling. HIs hands cupping my face and his eyes studying my face. “You’re going to have so many bruises, Char.” 

“Yeah, well I ruined Alex’s Armani suit, so fair trade.” I shrugged, and then like a completely lightweight, passed right the fuck out.


	32. Up I Get...

I woke up in my own bed, in my own apartment, with the comforting scent and warmth of Clay pressed against me. My entire body felt like I’d been steamrolled, my face was feeling particularly battered, and my mouth felt like I’d swallowed a desert whole. Which all added up to about right for my experience at the hands of the Xavier twins and their cohorts. 

“Hey,” the depth of his voice seemed to come from the very core of the earth, the way it vibrated through my bones. “Had me worried, Char, you passed out and then slept like the dead for almost 24 hours.” Wow, an entire day lost.

I rolled over and he grimaced. Great, I was mangled. “Guess that answers my first question before I can ask it,” I tried to say, but with the cotton mouth, and the soreness, well it came out less than perfect. “Ugh.” I groaned and he chuckled.

Tucking me into his chest he sighed. “I should have known, Charlotte Ramble, that trying to put you in a cage and keep you safe wasn’t going to work.” I rolled my eyes and groaned again, even that hurt. “I figured one of them would toss out more shit about Aisha and me, but fuck if I would have bet on Walter being messenger boy.”

I snuggled into his warmth, he’d taken his shirt off so my cheek against his bare skin somehow didn’t hurt as much. “It wasn’t just what he said about her,” again the soreness and the dry mouth added to the muffled quality that came from me being pressed into him made me nearly completely unintelligible. He pulled away and I whimpered at the loss of his heat, but he was back, with a bottle of cool water. 

“Here, slowly, your lip was busted open and it’s swollen.” He opened the cap and helped me sit up. I hissed when the plastic touched the tenderness of the cut, but then got distracted by the cool liquid. I couldn’t have drank too fast if I’d wanted to, since he kept a hand on the bottle. 

I sighed when I had my fill, the parched feeling relaxed and my tongue no longer was in danger of becoming part of the roof of my mouth. Our eyes met and I almost bit my lip, almost because when my tooth brushed that sore spot I gasped and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Ow.” That did nothing to make his expression less murderous, so I tried a different tact. “How ARE the twins?”

“Not nearly as battered as you and Carrie.” Clay’s hand came up to carefully cradle my face. “It took everything that Pooch had in him to keep Jensen from-” he took a deep breath through his nose and steadied himself. “I’m glad you couldn’t see her, Char, because seeing YOU like this was hard enough, seeing you react to Carrie’s condition would have forced Cougar and Pouch to work harder to keep Jensen AND me focused on the mission.” I nodded, worried that Carrie would hate me since it was MY fault she was in whatever terrible state she was in. “She’s fine, or she will be perfectly fine soon. Jensen isn’t leaving her side, and she’s enjoying his attention, I think.” 

“Who wouldn’t enjoy a giant golden retriever that looks like Jensen?” I leaned into Clay’s hand, drinking in the very sight of him. I was trying to remember why I was so angst ridden, what Walter had said that made going out so fucking important, but with him in front of me staring at me with all the concern I could see in his face, I couldn’t fathom the reason. “I have to say, I think I prefer Franklin Clay keeping me warm.” 

He sighed and leaned closer so our foreheads could touch. “I swear, your forehead is the only part of your fucking face that asshole didn’t bruise or beat.” He growled, but then his nose brushed mine and I nudged him back and he groaned. “Char, tempting me isn’t a good idea, sweetheart, not with-” But I didn’t let him finish, no excuses, not now. My fingers slid through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and my mouth, even split and tender skin wouldn’t stop me, touched his and I smiled at a victory won when Clay’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me tight against him. 

The tinge of metallic flavor that told me my lip reopened didn’t stop us, nor did my slight gasp when his fingers slid through my hair and I was reminded of how terribly rough Alex had been with my fucking scalp. Nothing could stop us, not the twinges of pain that would hit me with a slight brush of his fingers, or a bump of his body against mine, at least not while I had any say in the matter. 

“Char,” he moaned, while I dug my heels into his lower back to hold him to me as he tried to pull away. “You’re in pain.” 

“Then help me forget,” I demanded, tugging his face back to mine and licking back into his mouth. He growled again and I counted another win when he stopped pulling away and his weight pressed me into my mattress, and he helped me push the Xaviers from my mind, at least for a little while.


	33. Knock, Knock, Knocking... Seriously, Who the Fuck is Knocking?!

While Clay gave into a very hot, very sexy makeout session with me, it didn’t get a chance to go further. Just as I was pressing my luck by sliding my fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers, hearing his groan and knowing that he was about to argue that I was still too tender to go further, someone started pounding hard enough on my door to make me worry that it was going to splinter. 

We both groaned, me for the loss of him and him at the irritation of whoever was banging on the door. “Do you think it might be Davey or George?” He asked, as he pulled his shirt on, and yanked on his pants. 

I shook my head and he looked like he already knew it, but wanted confirmation. I wasn’t surprised that he had a gun, or that he had it close by, so when it showed up in his hand I internally shrugged. I’d just been held hostage by twin assholes, I was going with the flow, and staying in bed. 

I heard him call out to whoever was making the ruckus, then the hammering stopped and then the voice that joined his had me groaning for a whole new reason.

It took me a couple minutes to toss on my pajamas, since Clay had divested me of my night out clothes when he’d brought me home after the medics gave me the once over and deemed me safe to sleep it off. My hair was a nightmare, but I forewent attempting to brush it since I KNEW it was going to hurt like a bitch after Alex had tried to scalp me with his fucking fist. Clay’s voice was staying calm, which was more than I could say for my internal dialogue after I heard my visitor’s.

“Walter,” I greeted the man that I honestly wished I’d never once seen in my entire life, much less as often as I had in the past month. “To what do I fucking owe this-” I gestured to his body in my apartment, noticing that he looked less tailored than normal. 

“Are you alright, Charlotte?” His eyes were wide, and he looked almost rabid, bits of spit had collected at the corners of his mouth and his hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it for hours. “I heard the worst rumors. Your face,” he flinched and even though I had ignored the mirrors in my room, I knew I looked horrible. “It’s true then.” 

“That your asshole pals kidnapped and beat me?” I shrugged and sat down, pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa to cover my legs. “Yep.” 

“Charlotte, if I had ANY idea that they had THIS in them, I would have-” 

“What would you have done, Walter?” Clay asked, sitting beside me, and pulling me so my back was cradled against his chest. “Would you have turned them in to the authorities if you knew that they had a hand in killing 25 children?” I watched Walter’s face pale. “Guess they forgot that part in their tale about my time in Bolivia, huh?” 

“Children?” Walter stumbled to the chair and practically collapsed into it. “That was-” His eyes closed as he seemed to recall the news cycle at the time. “The helicopter, the team that died-” His eyes opened. “That was you.”

Clay’s lips brushed my temple and he nodded. “That was us.” He sighed. “MAX, that’s the name the Xaviers were using at the time. They planned on unleashing something worse, trust me, but we thwarted that, and then it was a game of cat and mouse until we got here.” His fingers linked with mine and I smiled, knowing that Clay’s life was going to finally get back to normal, or at least he’d be alive again. “I never wanted Charlotte to be a target, and I wanted to kill both of them when I realized they took her and Carrie.” 

“Carrie,” Walter sighed, his eyes pinched. “Is she-”

“She’ll be fine,” I assured him, more for me than him. “Jensen is looking after her, and professionals, since they were heavier handed with her than me.”

“Why?” He was staring at me and I knew he had come to the understanding that I was the bigger prize in their picks. “Why hurt her more than you?”

“I took the pain better,” I offered, chin up. “But I didn’t take hearing her being dealt the pain as well.” His eyes locked on mine and I think he saw it. What I’d gone through when he left finally hitting home. Watching Mom deteriorate daily, while staying strong and angry, moving forward but feeling like every ounce of pain she felt pierced me too. 

“Have you been seen by a doctor?” I nodded, and he shook his head. “Are you sure you’re alright? Here?”

“I’m fine. I have Clay.” 

Walter left, looking for all the world like his entire foundation had shaken loose which it had. His best friends were even worse people than he was, which as a fucking low bar. They’d crossed a line that I’m not sure even he would have, which was something I might have to think about one day, but not anytime soon. 

“You didn’t scream.” Clay was saying as he tucked me back into bed, his shirtless yet still stubbornly boxer wearing body joining me. “You didn’t order him to get out. I think you might be more tired than you’re letting on, Char.” 

I chuckled, rolling over so we were facing one another with the bedside lamp creating a halo behind his head. “No, I just didn’t feel up to it.” Raising my hand, I traced his lips with my fingertip. “My head hurts a little, and honestly, he looked like he’d been beaten shitless already.” 

“He was scared,” I nodded, that was apparent. “He thought you might be worse than the rumors let on.” What? “He was demanding to see you before you came out.”

“Wonders never cease,” a whisper, as I moved closer, letting my lips replace my finger. “I love you, Franklin Clay.” 

After he kissed me thoroughly, and I mean very thoroughly, he pulled away and took my breath away again. “Marry me.”


	34. First Comes Love, Then Comes...

“Marry you?” I pulled away and stared up at him, thinking that I was FAR too sober and far too something to deal with the idea of marriage to ANYONE. “Clay, I think we should probably-” Clay’s eyes were locked on mine and I swallowed down the anxiety that was rushing up. “It’s just- We just met.” 

It was lame, even to me, but it was true. And it wasn’t like I had such a great fuzzy feeling about marriage in general. LOOK at my parents, or you could look at them, if my mom wasn’t six feet under from the fucking suicidal tendencies that her MARRIAGE caused.

“Char-” He sighed, and I knew that he was TRYING to see it from my point of view, but he was having difficulties since he wasn’t emotionally stunted and he was clearly delusional from rescuing me from the clutches of twin assholes. “Sweetheart, you’re tired and I know that I blurted it out. I should have waited until we’ve both had some time to rest and-”

I couldn’t help the snort that slipped out of me. The poor man was operating under the misunderstanding that my problem with his “proposal” was that it wasn’t romantic or something? “Clay, you could have waited until we’d rested for a week, you’d planned the entire time with roses and candlelight and I think I’d react the same way.” His eyes tightened and I groaned. “I love you, I do, but marriage? I’m not sure I EVER want to get married. To ANYONE.” 

I was gratified when he didn’t pull away from me, throw on his clothes, and leave in a huff. Instead, he pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin and sighed again. “Then we’re at an impasse, Char.” I listened to his breathing, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and started to drift off again as he laid back. “Because I’m not giving up until we have the same last name.” 

I woke up alone in my bed and I had a rush of fear that he’d given up after all and left me for good. Then I heard his voice in the living room and my heartbeat returned to normal. I didn’t hear anyone answering him so I ventured a guess that he was talking on the phone. When he walked back into the bedroom with his cell in his hand, I knew I was correct. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” his smile caused the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes to crinkle and those dimples of his to peek out at me. “How do you feel?”

“Better seeing you,” I opened my arms and he moved closer to give me what I was clearly asking him to give me. Wrapping his arms around me, our lips met and all was right in my world, even if my scalp felt like it was on fire and my face felt like it bore a terrible resemblance to hamburger. When he pulled back, much too soon for my liking, he was still smiling. “What?” 

“I love you,” his fingers brushed my bangs away from my forehead gently and his eyes seemed to be memorizing my face. “Even if your bruises have bruises.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes, happy to find neither caused me pain. “Feel like a bath?” 

My smile grew at the thought of Clay naked and a tub of hot water. “That depends,” he cocked an eyebrow and I bit my lip, hissing at the pain it caused, but shrugging it off with the single-mindedness that came from thinking about Franklin Clay naked. “Are you joining me?”

I squealed when he yanked me into his arms, then giggled as he jostled me gently through the bedroom into the bathroom. “You’re incorrigible, Charlotte Ramble, do you know that?” 

I nodded when he set me down, grinning as he started to take off the pajamas I’d put on when Walter showed up to check on me. “I do know, and if it gets you in the bathtub with me, I’ll be so damn incorrigible that you’ll have to stick to me like fucking glue.” 

“Deal.” Clay muttered, kissing me with a tenderness that promised more. So much more that I knew that impasse was still hovering, but I swore that I’d deal with it later. For now, I had a bath to take, and a naked Clay to play with.


	35. Rub A Dub...

Clay made the water hot enough to make me think that he was preparing us both for a less than pleasurable afterlife, or showing me that he paid close attention to my preferences for bathing. Adding some scented salts, a little tab of oil, and offering me his hand so I wouldn’t slip once he stepped inside first he settled me with my back against his chest. The hot water coupled with the lightly scented additions soothed both my sore muscles and my less than calm thoughts. Clay’s hands sliding along my skin were another distraction, even as his words bounced around my mind. 

I had managed, even while he undressed me and I him, to ignore the mirrors and so I still had no idea how terrible I looked, or how mangled my hair and scalp really was. “Tell me the truth,” I started, smiling as his hum to let me know he was listening and agreeable vibrated through me. “How bad is my hair?” He chuckled and I frowned.

“Alex beat the holy shit out of your face to the point that ONLY your forehead doesn’t have a mark on it, but you’re worried about your hair,” I felt him sigh and then his fingers traced up my arms, along my shoulders, up my neck and to the beginning of my hairline. “It’s tangled, and a mess,” I waited, completely still while his fingers gently slid up into the curls that were so tight and knotted that he couldn’t go far without meeting a barrier, but he worked slowly and softly, careful of the tenderness of my scalp. “You don’t have any missing chunks, Char, because I checked. I had the medics check first, then I checked while you slept. I made a promise to myself that if that bastard pulled out any of your hair, if he left you truly maimed and scarred, I would fucking kill him or at least scar him permanently so he’d never forget just how he should treat a lady.” 

I leaned back, settling into his warmth, the warmth of the water, and let him pamper me. Clay washed me carefully, turning me around so he could tend my wounded face, murmuring about how pissed he was that Alex had dared to lay a finger on me, much less cause any damage whatsoever, kissing my swollen and still split lip. Pulling away when I wanted so much more, with the warning that it would never heal if I kept tempting him. 

“What’s a little blood between lovers, Clay?” He shook his head and turned me around again, reaching for a cup I hadn’t seen him bring in, so he must have prepared for our bath before I woke up. Using his hand under my chin, he tipped my head back, much like my mom had when I was a little girl and slowly dampened my hair before washing it as carefully as a parent would a small child. “I think you might make a pretty decent dad one day, Lieutenant Colonel Clay.” 

“That an offer, Charlotte?” I snorted and he laughed. “I’ll be a dad when you want to be a mom, deal?” I didn’t say anything and he sighed. “You love me, right?” 

I turned to face him, shocked he’d even ask. “Of course I love you.” I was staring at him while he stared right back. It was my turn to sigh. “I don’t know why marriage is so important, so soon.” I added the last part to soften the first, but to be honest, I didn’t get it. Marriage was a piece of paper and a piece of jewelry, neither necessarily meant that you were automatically happy. 

Clay’s fingers brushed my newly washed, conditioned, and semi-detangled hair out of my face. “I never thought it was,” his voice was quiet, but I would swear I’d be able to hear it from across oceans. “Not until you. I want you to have my last name, Char. I want to point at you when we’re out and say ‘my wife’. I want to have children with you one day. And I’ll wait if I have to, I’ll work my ass off to convince you to see it my way, but I want you to marry me.”

I could see it. Strange as it sounds, as anti-marriage as I felt, I could see what he wanted. Parties, dinners, across the room, his voice and hearing the words. I could almost feel his hand on my swollen abdomen, waiting to feel a kick, a promise of a new life. I could almost taste what he wanted so badly, but did I WANT it, or did I just want HIM? 

“Don’t answer now,” he told me, pulling me forward so my legs draped over his and we were closer, our faces inches apart. “Think about it, let me convince you. I want to, Charlotte Ramble. I want to show you just how badly I want to make you mine. Forever.”


	36. The Truth Will Set You...

How does Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay convince a woman to marry him? To be honest, I haven’t a single fucking clue. Not because he left me or because he gave up, or at least I don’t think he gave up, he just kept being Clay. Strong, hot, sexy Clay.

After our bath, which he begrudgingly allowed me to reciprocate the pampering, he wrapped me in one of my huge bath sheets and carefully detangled my hair completely. My scalp was still sore, but he could run his fingers through my hair without them catching on a snag and that was a relief for us both. Once we were dry, we managed to leave the bedroom to relax in the living room, and I found out who he’d been talking to when I woke up. 

Dinner had been delivered. My favorites, made by George and put carefully away in the fridge with sticky notes to tell Clay how to reheat each one. “Your uncles are amazing men, Char.” He was moving around my kitchen like he cooked more frequently than he admitted to, and I thought he might have, given his time in the field. “George didn’t just write notes, he also went over them when they dropped everything off. Davey wanted me to know what your favorite bath things were, so he told me what to use to help with that.” They ganged up on me, not that I minded. “I told them we’d call when you were feeling up for a LONG chat.” 

“Later,” I promised, smiling when he brought me a glass of wine. “You look hot as hell in my kitchen, sir.” His smile made my heart stutter and his white button down over those boxers of his was doing a few things to other parts of my anatomy. “Do I get dessert?”

“Let’s see how tired dinner makes you.” He countered, and I made a promise to myself that I was saving room for a shit ton of dessert. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to stay in shape in this town,” Clay groaned, putting his empty plate on the coffee table and sitting back. “Between Enzo’s, your cooking, and George’s-” I was watching him relax, his body a work of art, not a complaint to be had from my lips. In fact- “You look like you might be ready for dessert, sweetheart.” His eyes were dark and his teeth were worrying his lower lip. 

“Oh, I’m more than ready,” I crawled over his lap, thankful he hadn’t bothered to button his shirt, thankful he hadn’t bothered with his pants, and thankful he’d only dried me off and wrapped me in a blanket. “I don’t care if my lip opens wide, Clay,” I murmured as I was pulling his shirt off his shoulders. “I don’t care if I hiss when your fingers scrape my skin,” his mouth attached itself to my neck and I sighed. “Don’t fucking stop until-” And he didn’t. Not this time. 

When morning dawned again, after another night wrapped up in one another, this time the way we had before MAX had made a mess of things again, I remembered that I could get up and do the baking for the shop again. Even if it was later than usual, even if Clay couldn’t have his breakfast on the island while customers were mingling and sipping coffee through the swinging doors, I could recapture some of my routine.

I could visit Carrie too, Clay told me after we got ready and were heading downstairs. He was off to meet with the team, sans Jensen since he was still at his girl’s beck and call, but Carrie was allowed more visitors and feeling slightly better. George and Davey got a call while I had the first round of pastries in the oven, Keli hip checking me in the kitchen on her way to the office to get change.

“I’m fine, even if my face looks like-” I was saying, as Keli came back through with a laugh. 

“Like a fucking riot of bruises, looks like she went ten rounds with a heavyweight, but she also looks like she won, so there’s that.” She offered, since I had the phone on speaker as I mixed another batch. 

“Such a poet,” George offered with his own snicker, and Davey sighed loudly, done with all of our shit. “At least you came out on top, sweetie.”

“She survived,” Davey snarled, and I felt the same protective bubble around me that I felt when Mom died. “That’s it, not because she’s superhuman, but because she managed to keep herself alive. Clay told us that they’ll be tried at the highest level, but I’d rather they end up-”

“Castrated and eaten by piranhas, I know,” I sighed while Keli rolled her eyes and left through the way she came. “The law doesn’t really allow it, but I do love your zest for it.”

“I heard Walter came to check on you,” George’s voice came out in the same tone he’d used when I tried to convince him that EVERYONE wore pajamas to their morning classes in college. It still felt weird seeing him in my apartment, looking like hell and concerned. 

“Yeah, he did. He was freaked out, probably afraid it ruined his chances of reelection.” I shrugged and went back to the task at hand, adding more flavored chips to another scone recipe. Neither uncle chimed in to agree with me and I stopped in my tracks. “That has to be why good old Walt came pounding on my door, right?”

“Listen, sweetheart,” Davey sounded resigned and somewhat timid, two words I’d never consider using to describe my uncle. “When we realized you went out on your own, then Clay gave us a minor cardiac infraction by telling us that he assumed that you were taken by those asshole twins, we-” I heard George making some unattractive noises of dissent in the background and a sigh from Davey before he went on. “I decided that maybe Walter would know where they had you.”

It took me a few beats to process the fact that my uncle had swallowed his own distrust and dislike for my father to call him and ask for any help in finding me and Carrie. “YOU called Walter?” It came out far quieter and calmer than I’d assumed I had within my entire person. “Why would you think he’d care or help?”

George made a noise that I’d need the rest of my life to come up with a description to do justice. “Because he’s been their asshole buddy since their mothers’ squatted in whichever gutter they shat them out in?” My eyes went wide, not due to the crudeness, but because George was being more like Davey and me than he usually allowed himself to go. “I have to admit, I didn’t think he’d react the way he did when Dave made that call.” 

Before I could ask, Davey chimed back in. Now that they were telling the full story, both were willing to go full disclosure. While he talked, I pulled the pans of fresh pastries out of the oven and put them on the first racks to cool. Prepared racks ready to go in the oven were put in and I did it all while listening to the bizarrest fucking thing I’d ever heard.

“At first I thought he was going to hang up, Charlotte. It’s not as if we’re on the best terms.” Understatement of the fucking decade. “I managed to get out that you were missing, that his idiot friends were the culprits, and that we worried that you weren’t going to come out unscathed-”

“He barely finished before we heard the knock on our front door,” George offered, I could almost hear him shaking his head in the disbelief that I felt. “Standing there looking like he just yanked on sweats over his PJs, his wife beside him looking like she’d seen a ghost-”

“Gays, sweetheart, she saw gays,” I nearly snorted, but I didn’t have time to appreciate the joke because they were on a roll. “Anyway, Walter asked to come in and he brainstormed about the properties that he knew for certain the twins owned, I thought he was going to yank his hair out at the roots. The wife was looking around the house like she was on a tour to a museum of the strange, but she wasn’t rude or out of line so we mostly ignored her.”

“He kept muttering about how he couldn’t understand not seeing how dangerous they were,” George piped in. “When Clay checked back in to tell us they’d found you and Carrie, I thought he was going to faint. He was so relieved. Told us that he planned on checking in with the ER to see how you were doing and that he’d be visiting you to make certain, but I think we both assumed that was just talk.” 

“It wasn’t,” I was sitting at the island, having managed to prep a few more pans of scones to keep from freaking out at the knowledge that my sperm donor wasn’t a complete dickhead. “He seriously looked like he was concerned.” 

“I think he IS concerned,” George said. Our perpetual sweetness tried to convince me. “Charlotte, you were in real danger, from HIS friends. That’s more than concerning.” 

“Clay asked me to marry him.” It slipped out, I swear, but the gasps from their end nearly made me go deaf. “Calm your asses down,” I think my brain was trying to change the subject from Walter to less traumatic territory, but failed miserably. “I haven’t said yes.”

“Not YET, I hope you mean,” George sounded completely appalled by the news that I wasn’t studying bridal magazines and hiring wedding planners. “Do not make me disown you for letting a man like Clay go, Charlotte Ramble.” 

I snorted then, real and true hilarity at the thought that my uncle would disown me for losing a man. But then I sobered up real quick at the thought of LOSING CLAY. Shit. Would I lose Clay if I didn’t say yes eventually?


	37. A Tisket, A Tasket...

I made Carrie and Jens a care package after I had the pastries baked and finished. A basket filled with scones, cookies, muffins, plus juices and I juggled a cup carrier with Jens’ favorite- “Cappuccino Extra Cinnamon Are You Sure You Don’t Do The Art On Top” I murmured to myself as I made it while Keli chuckled and a cup of Carrie’s regular hint of vanilla cappuccino that got no snark from my managing employee. 

“Tell Carrie we hope she’s feeling better,” I was smiling at how empathetic she sounded, far from her regular muttering snark and she rolled her eyes. “Stacy worked at Enzo’s for a while, and Carrie treated us like family.” I felt a rush of shame go through me at the feeling that I lacked as a boss and a human being. “You haven’t been as shitty as you think, Char, stop looking like that.” Another eye roll. “You want some help getting your burden to the car?” 

Once I had everything buckled into my car with Keli’s help, I pulled away from the curb and headed to Carrie’s house. She’d been released from the hospital, an overnight stay and a few extra hours for observation was all it took, but according to Clay Jensen was working from her side. If it couldn’t be done virtually, then the team had to count Jensen out. Instead of sounding put upon, Clay had sounded pretty fucking proud of his hacker. And so was I.

Carrie’s house didn’t look very different from my childhood home, either of them actually. It was quaint, like the entirety of our coastal town, the only difference was that it was smaller. I’d called from the car, giving the couple a head’s up that I was on my way, and Jensen must have been keeping an eye out because he was opening my car door as soon as I put the damn thing in park. 

“Could you grab the cup carrier?” I asked, looping my arm through the basket handle and grabbing my purse. “I think I have the rest handled.” He was grinning as he took a whiff of the scent of cinnamon and I could see the appreciation on his tired face. The fact that he looked so exhausted was caused by my smart ass mouth wasn’t lost on me, and for the second time in the span of ten minutes I felt a rush of guilt. “How is she?” We were walking up the pathway and I was happy to see his smile didn’t drop when I glanced at him.

“She’s good, Char, honestly she’s bouncing back-” he didn’t get to finish because ‘she’ was standing at the front door looking like thunder. 

“I’m not an invalid or deaf,” Carrie was glaring down at the two of us as we made our way up the steps of her porch. “For fuck’s sake, I want to leave the damn house already.” 

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Carrie’s face was as bruised as mine, we could be twins, but I flinched when I saw her arm in a sling. “I’m sorry,” I felt my eyes burning, knowing that whatever she suffered it was all my fucking fault. “I shouldn’t have-”

“Would you stop,” she shook her head and pulled me in with her one good arm. “Get your ass in here, Char,” she sighed and hugged me to her, muttering in my ear. “I’m fine and if you start blubbering, I’ll start blubbering and this big dumb meatball is gonna force me back into that fucking bed and it’s NOT fun if we’re not naked.”

I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m sorry, Carrie, I shouldn’t have baited them.” I was pulling back as Jensen took the basket from me to see what goodies I’d brought and to get away from my emotional ass, I imagined. 

That made her laugh. “Are you kidding?” Her eyes met mine and I saw the fierceness that I’d known her for blazing back at me. “If you hadn’t told his ass that shit, I would have. Fucking pansy assholes. I’m glad you puked all over that hideous fucking suit of his too.” She was tugging me into her living room, where we sat on the sofa while Jensen handed her the cup of coffee that was clearly hers. He sat behind her, just like Clay would have done to me, and I smiled at the ease of it. “I wish their dumb ass minion hadn’t gone psycho mode on my shoulder,” my eyes landed on Jens’ hand where it was gently adjusting her sling. “He dislocated it, freak that he was.” 

I sat with the two of them, listening as they spoke as easily and lovingly as I imagined Clay and I did. The way their eyes met and how Jens seemed to anticipate what Carrie needed or wanted, I had to wonder, was that how we looked? By the time I was ready to go, I had more questions than answers, about that damn question of Clay’s. 

Hugging Carrie carefully, then being bear hugged by those muscled arms of Jens’ I was in the car on the way back to my own place when my cell rang. George insisting on family dinner with Clay included, and I hoped beyond hope that my uncles wouldn’t be pressing for me to make a choice so soon. 

Clay was waiting for me when I got back. He looked happy as a lark and it was contagious. Grinning he kissed me in the middle of the shop, making the few late afternoon customers chuckle at the display and Keli roll her eyes so hard and snicker loud enough to make me giggle when he pulled away. 

“What was that for?” I was staring up at him, the fluffy curls of his hair flopping on his forehead, the caramel of his eyes making me want to get lost in him forever. 

“I love you,” simple enough, but not the total answer. “And I’m officially alive again, so-”

“I’m not a necrophiliac,” my smile grew and he shook his head at my terrible, long running joke. “Good, then dinner with George and Davey tonight will be a REAL celebration.” 

His lips quirked and he bent lower, his lips brushing my earlobe. “It could be a REALLY REAL celebration if you said a three letter word, Char.” Then his tongue touched the sensitive skin and I thought about a lot of words I wanted to say, but not in answer to that damn question.


	38. Bells Will Ring...

Walking across the sand, hoping against hope that my heels didn’t pitch me face first into the damn beach, I made my way toward the man waiting at the arch set up so the crashing waves of the ocean was the backdrop as the sun began its slow descent. The reds, pinks, and oranges of the sky looked as if God became an artist just for this moment and I couldn’t think of a better description or a more deserving moment.

The music was loud enough to break past the steady thrum of the waves, the wind was cooperating, and the guests were murmuring as I made my way up the center. My eyes were on one person, one set of eyes locked on mine, no one else really mattered. 

It took no time whatsoever, yet also time seemed to slow indefinitely- how was that possible? And then I was at the front, and turning toward the way I came, I smiled as I saw the real star of the day. 

My best friend, Carrie DiMarco, wearing the most gorgeous lacy white dress that was ever designed coupled with heels that put the ones that made me pray for my own life crossing the beach to shame, arm looped through THE Enzo’s walked to her future. Jake Jensen, awkward muscle bound geek extraordinaire, who was about to become a husband. And, though no one else knew- in about seven months he’d be getting another new title too.

Clay stood by Jens’ side, just as I would stand by Carrie’s and I knew that he would be pulling out ALL the stops tonight to get me to agree to say yes to us going through our own version of this very ceremony and SOON. 

Six months have passed since MAX as they will forever be called in my head took me and Carrie captive and tortured us. Six months since Jens sat beside Carrie nursing her back to full working order, showing the world just how freaking hot he really was on all kinds of levels. 

Six months that had Keli and Stacy having their own version of this beachy scene, though they went the less extravagant route, choosing to marry at my former childhood home, which they were renting for now (until I decided if I wanted to sell or hell, who knew what I’d do with that house of horrors?). Six months that also had Keli and Stacy contemplating another child, whether surrogacy or adoption was the route they wanted to try. 

Six months of George and Davey realizing that while Florida was nice, they actually missed HOME. Me, I thought, glaring at their overprotective and meddling asses, but secretly happy to have them back. Six months while they helped aid and abet Clay in his attempts to get me to say yes to marrying him. 

Six months could change a shit ton. For instance, Walter and his wife Anna. After he’d come pounding on my door, I’d assumed we’d resume our former non-relationship. Instead, he started coming into the shop to try each pastry, he’d been told by George that I loved to bake and made all the offerings at the shop, while they waited for news the night of MAX’s shit storm. Anna came with him after he realized that I wasn’t going to throw him out, since I’d started doing a little time on the floor, still the face of the shop. She wasn’t nearly as horrible as I’d assumed, but it was still very early stages. George made pains to try to include them in family gatherings, birthdays and holidays, and Walter and Anna made a point to make appearances. I was processing how I felt about it. 

As the ceremony went on, my eyes met Clay’s and he mouthed “I love you” making me smile. I adored him, every inch of him, to the point that I realized that the apartment above the shop was a tad too restrictive to love him as fully as I wanted to. Which is why, after the wedding, I planned on taking him to one of the other properties Davey had shown me that I owned. I really hoped that he liked it. Since it happened to be four bedroom Victorian, two streets from the beach, I think he will. I also had another surprise for him- The answer to his question. Finally.


End file.
